


Burning Mother

by planningconquest



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Capture, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Kidnapping, Minor Violence, Politics, Suitless Vader, Vader finds Luke, Vader is a woman, but with the same personality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-21 20:54:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11952459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planningconquest/pseuds/planningconquest
Summary: A Jedi Luke emerges onto the galactic scene over a decade after the Jedi temple burned.  Joining with Cassian Andor, rebel spy, they attempt to return to the Rebellion to attempt to full fill his destiny as the Chosen One. Sidetracked by pirates, farmers, and blind monks.All the while hunted by a vengeful Lady Vader who would see the young Jedi dead with the rest of his Order.





	1. Jedi Luke

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by The Burning Mother portrait done by deviantart user FlyingOverTheGrass.

Cassian hadn’t even known they’d had Jedi in the Rebellion. Much less Jedi that was stupid enough to announce their presence to the galaxy. 

Jedi dumb enough to yank off their cloak, showing off Jedi clothes and then producing a bright green Jedi weapon; then doing something Jedi enough that it got the immediate attention of every single Imperial on the battle field. 

Cassian wasn’t sure that the Jedi would last much longer if they kept being this stupid. 

“You’re an idiot!” He rasped past his thudding heart and lungs that weren’t pulling in enough air. Cassian settled back against the bombed out shop they were taking shelter in. “You could have gotten us killed.” 

“I stopped all those blaster bolts!” The Jedi protested. Bright blue eyes turned concerned, “are you alright?” 

“You stopped the blaster bolts! That’s the problem! Now the whole galaxy is going to know that you’re here! You’ll bring the entire Navy on our heads!”

“I’m sorry,” the Jedi babbled, “but I found your distress signal and,” a shattering roar caught his attention. 

“Artillery,” Cassian said grimly, “how are you planning on stopping that, blondie?” 

“I’m sorry, but I.” He wilted in on himself and pressed closer to the wall. “We need to go, we’re next.” 

“Of course, we’re next. They’re trying to kill you!” 

“I know they’re going to try and kill me! My training has covered that much!” 

“Has your training been like this, brat?” Cassian demanded as they scuttled from the shop and toward a low-slung building a few blocks away. The planet shuddered again under the increasing artillery. “Practical?” 

“No! Not really! I’m not even supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be joining my master to complete my training.” They ducked into the new building just as their previous hiding spot was scattered across the continent. “He left ahead of me to go get things ready!” 

“If you’re not supposed to be here then, why are you?” He needed to complete his mission. He needed to get the prisoner out and to the rebellion for information on a new Imperial weapon. There was another explosion, this time further off. Who ever was in charge seemed to think that this section of the city was demolished enough. They were probably right. The planet was a desolate wasteland from the Clone War. There weren’t any civilians on-world, a small bonus in the entire shit-storm of a day. 

“I got your distress signal.” 

“I didn’t send up a distress signal.” 

“Well I got one and I thought I’d go help out….” The blond fiddled with his clothes. “Then I saw you getting shot at and I thought you sent out the distress signal.” 

“No.” The Jedi needed new clothes. He was a target and a total idiot if the thought running around looking like a Jedi was going to do him any good. “We need to find new shelter.”

“We’re okay here for a few more hours.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“Uh…the Force.” 

“The Force?” Cassian rolled his eyes, “of course.” 

“I’m sorry.” The blond said. “I know I shouldn’t have used my lightsaber or the Force but…” 

“It’s over now,” the spy sighed deeply, “it’s too late. The Empire knows that the rebels have a Jedi with them. “ 

“That what I’m sorry about. I wasn’t…I’m not supposed to use my powers in front of people. I just…” the blond buried his head in his hands. “I’m not really supposed to use my powers ever. I didn’t mean to get us into so much trouble.” 

“Hmm. What is your name?” 

“Um.” Bright blue eyes finally focused on him, “I’m Luke.” 

“Luke?” 

“Yeah, um, I know I’m supposed to have another one but my master says that he doesn’t know it. So…I don’t know it then.” 

“Luke the Jedi.” Cassian had been a Separatist. All of six years old, fighting against the Republic and their lightsaber wielding enforcers. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the blond. “Why can’t you use your powers?” 

“Um, they’re too dangerous. Well, I’m too dangerous. I’m not.” 

“You used it before, to stop the blaster bolts and then to tell me we’re not in danger for another few hours.” 

“I know. I know. I’m not supposed to! I’m sorry! I just…I have control problems. That’s why I’m not done with my training.” 

“Huh.” A Jedi. A real Jedi. He wasn’t at all what the Jedi were like in Cassian’s childhood. He seemed, anxious and nervous. A little on edge. “So, the Jedi are back?” 

“I guess.” Luke sat on a piece of something that might have been a wall. “It’s just me and my master. When I was done with my training I’m supposed to fulfill my destiny.” 

In a day of shocking circumstances that included but were not limited to being shot at by Deathtroopers and having said shots being deflected by a lightsaber wielding Jedi; Cassian didn’t anything could be added to it. Luke had delivered the line with such a straight face and with such earnest belief, it was hilarious. He burst into laughter. 

“Why are you laughing?” 

“Your destiny,” the spy managed to gasp, “What destiny?” 

“The…one where I’m the Chosen One and destroy the Sith and…bring justice and peace to the galaxy.” He sounded unsure. “Why?” 

“Destiny.” Cassian chortled and buried his face in his hands. Surrounded by Imperial death squads and with a Jedi that seemed to believe he was the one to end the war. “Destiny. That’s hilarious.” 

“But it is my destiny!” Luke protested, “I’m supposed to defeat the Sith!” 

“You? You’re going to kill Lady Vader?” 

“Well…” Luke looked away as Cassiasn’s pointed question made his fear spike. “One day.” 

“Do yourself a favor, little Jedi, don’t go anywhere near Lady Vader.” Cassian sighed. “But more importantly we need to get off-world. They’re going to be looking for us.” 

“I know.” Luke sighed.

“And we’re going to have to be careful when we take you back to the Rebellion. Since you’re obviously going to attract a lot of attention.” The Jedi was a herald of danger and potential chaos. 

“I sure hope I get to help people,” Luke said. He shrugged at Cassian’s curious gaze. “My master told me that I’m supposed to help people. That’s why I’m here. If we go places we need to help people then maybe I can make some headway against the Sith and the Darkness.” 

“Darkness?” Despite the precarious situation, Cassian was intrigued. “How does helping people stop the Darkness. How does it stop the Sith?” 

“Sith feed off the Darkness,” Luke told him, “and Darkness feeds off fear and anger and hate. My master thinks that the best way to help the galaxy is to just kill the Sith but I think that the best place to start would be in simple kindness. You have to be nice to people and care about them if you want to stop things like anger and hate and fear.” 

“You think being nice to people will just get rid of the Sith?” He stretched out one leg in front of him and fingered his blaster idly. 

“Not all of it but I think it can only help.” He was being totally earnest. “Think about it. If the problem is the Sith and then the Darkness, don’t you think the real culprit is…cruelty and those sorts of things?” 

“You’re an idiot.” Cassian told him plainly, “that is not going to work. You want to fix things that’s not the way to do it.” 

“Not the only thing you do,” the boy looked away. “My master didn’t want me to do it either. He told me that I should just leave people be and focus on killing the Sith.” 

“So you’re the destined Sith-slayer?” 

“I guess.” 

“Uh? Where have you been all this time?” 

“Like I said, training.” 

“To kill the Sith?” 

“Yeah.”

“Who is Lady Vader?” 

“And the Emperor.” 

“I want to know.” Cassian paused as he felt the ugly burn of bitterness in his chest. “Where the kriff was your master? Your teacher?” 

“Teaching me.” Luke stared at him, “where else would he be?” They stared at each a long moment. “Captain, are you alright?” 

“I’m fine.” He lied. “I hope you don’t mind a delay in your plans to get back to learning. If we want to make sure the Empire doesn’t find you then we can’t go back in a straight line. We’ll be making a lot of of…detours.”

“Alright!” Luke inched closer to Cassian, “where will we go first?” 

#$#$#$3

Captain Piett pulled at his uniform collar and brushed the back of his hand over his forehead. For several moments, he gathered the nerve to walk into the other room. Once he’d taken enough deep breaths and put off the inevitable long enough, he pressed the request button. 

The door slid open without him waiting for a second. Apparently, his commander was waiting for him. 

“Captain Piett,” as soon as stepped into the room, illuminated only by the various datapads on the desk and the holo-display of a battlefield, his commander spoke. “You’re late.” 

“I apologize, Lord Vader.” He fumbled over the title. On his own world Lord was sued for both men and women when it was used at all. The last time he’d made the mistake Tarkin had slapped him. For several moments he waited for whatever the woman would do. She didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were focused on a report. When she glanced up they shifted from blue to the alarming yellow she was infamous for. Her armor, iconic the galaxy over, gleamed in the low lights. 

“Make your report, Captain.” She snapped. He straightened even further and moved to stand the proper distance from her. 

“Yesterday above.” 

“The Jedi.” She interrupted him. “I do not care for the other details. Tell me about the Jedi.” 

“The Jedi is presumed to be a young human male. The cloak he abandoned on the battlefield was later destroyed when the area was carpet bombed. It is unknown if the Jedi is still alive. He was noted to carry a green lightsaber.” 

“He is still alive.” Lady Vader finally stood, her report abandoned. She moved from behind her desk to the viewport. Her hands clasped behind her back, feet wide apart, and her head down. Her hair reached her waist, braided and filthy. Piett wasn’t sure she’d even washed it in the last two or three weeks. “A Jedi.” He knew why she would want the Jedi. Everyone knew why the Lady would want the Jedi. The Jedi’s crimes against her were known the galaxy over. 

“If he is still alive then it is possible he is in the company of a newly discovered rebel spy. One by the name, Cassian Andor. A captain in rebel intelligence. The initial attack was on him.”

“Very well.” She didn’t turn. Piett tried to keep his fear to a manageable level. It was only the third time he’d reported to the woman. “Have a missive sent to intelligence. Search for the Jedi and search for the Spy. They will be the top priority.” 

“Anything else, sir?” 

“No. Go.” He bowed hastily and retreated as quickly as he dared. He did not want to be the Jedi when they were found and brought to justice. 

#$#$

Obi Wan Kenobi savored the burn of alcohol as it slipped down his throat. Real alcohol. Real booze. Booze that wasn’t brewed in a rudimentary still. 

“Enjoying your drink, General?” 

“Please,” he rasped, setting the glass down long enough for it to refilled, “I’m no longer a General. Just call me Kenobi. This is first real drink I’ve had in over a decade.” 

“Ever since you left with the baby.” General Draven agreed. “Hard to pack booze when your focus is education.” 

“Training and training and more training.” Obi Wan agreed and leaned against his seat. “Thank the force he learned how to cook as soon as he was physically able.” He languished in the comfort of the alcohol buzz. 

“How did he turn out?” The question the rebels had been skirting around for two weeks now. 

“Brilliant with the blade. I don’t know another Jedi who was ever more skilled. He’s mastered four forms.” 

“And?” General Draven was getting him drunk Obi Wan mused thoughtfully. Not too concerned with the proceedings. 

“His power is incredible. A beacon of the Force. Too powerful to be used though,” he mused as he took another drink. “As powerful as his mother maybe. More powerful than his sister. He’s emotional though. I told him to not use his force abilities until he ‘as straightened out his emotions.” 

“How is that going?” 

“Most Jedi have already mastered that stage by now.” Obi Wan muttered into his glass. “When he gets here I’m confident we can finally get through this.”

“Isn’t that why you got rid of the sister?” 

“Yes, but Luke is more powerful and more useful to destroying the Sith.” 

“The Obi Wan I knew wouldn’t say something like that,” Draven said, not really caring about how the man was speaking. 

“The Obi Wan you knew hadn’t had everything he’d ever known ripped from him.” He finished off the rest of his glass and held it out again. Draven poured. “If it weren’t for that disaster we’d’ve stayed on world until I felt Luke knew enough.” 

“You think he doesn’t know enough?” 

“I think he’s…naïve.” 

“Hard to imagine since he was removed from the galaxy when he was a toddler and raised by one person and only knew one person.” 

“Shut the kriff up.” The amber liquid splashed on his robes as Obi Wan waved a hand about. “You’ve got…a boy and a girl. Twins. One is more powerful than the other but naïve. Two is powerful too but…emotional in the dangerous way. Which one do you keep? Not Two, she called Yoda a lot of names. I didn’t even know he’d left her at the…prison place until after the fact.” 

“Do you know if she’s still alive?” Drevan asked and Obi Wan shrugged. 

“Nope.” 

“Kenobi, you do know that the Jedi aren’t going to be welcomed back, right?” 

“Hmm.” Obi Wan savored his drink, finally closing his eyes. “Vader and her smear campaign.” 

“You did cut her down and gut her children right from her.” Drevan pointed out, not at all sympathetic when Obi Wan paled at the memory. “Pretty effective campaign. The Burning Mother. You’re the reason she’s scarred like that. Don’t want to try and deny that, do you?” 

“I did take them.” Obi Wan drooped. “She didn’t deserve them. She didn’t deserve her husband. She deserved to burn. Should’ve made sure she did.”

“Well,” Drevan leaned away and took the rest of the alcohol from reach of the Jedi, “no one else on the Council wants you back. They’d just as soon take the boy without you attached. Having General Kenobi in the Alliance looks bad. Lots of people, people who supported the Jedi once, sympathize with her. You can get shit-faced on what’s left in your glass. When is Luke supposed to get to Yavin 4?” 

“Whenever he does.” Kenobi groused, “I pre-programmed the coordinates into his ship. Unless he did something stupid he should be here…now.” 

“Now?” 

“Yesterday.” Obi Wan looked confused and then sighed deeply. “He probably attracted some trouble. Just like his parents.” 

“Alright.” The rebel took the rest of his booze and left the room. The Jedi finished off his glass, moping and wishing for more. “We should probably find him before Vader does.”


	2. Tang's Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke is Bambi. Tang now lives in a supply closet.

Having a Jedi aboard a stolen ship would normally be enough to make Cassian’s jaw clench and his temper short out. Except that Luke walked around the ship with the exact sort of a grace a newborn deer possessed. He stumbled over small things, glancing confusedly at various items stashed about, and asked questions that had such obvious answer that Cassian only felt sorry for the boy. 

“Didn’t your teacher teach you anything?” He demanded after finding Luke holding a bright red dress in front of himself right before a mirror. “What are you doing?” 

“This doesn’t seem very practical,” Luke said as he continued to examine the dress. “Why would you have it?” 

“It isn’t mine!” Cassian snapped. 

“Who owns it?” 

“Whoever owns this ship!” 

“It is very red,” Luke set the slinky dress back down. I wonder why people wear stuff like that.” 

“Women wear dresses sometimes. Sometimes men do.” Luke blinked, and then Cassian felt something in his heart sink. “You’ve never met a woman, have you?” 

“Ah, no.” Luke ducked his head. “I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t.” he dragged a hand over his face. “Gods, I don’t know what I expected.” 

“I’m sorry. I haven’t…I’ve only met my master and you. You’re the first person besides him that I’ve met.” Luke sat down on the bunk. “Would you wear that dress?” 

“No.” He pinched his nose and took deep breaths. 

“Why not?” 

“I don’t like the color.” Cassian sighed, “Jedi, we’re going to be making it to Corellia soon, you’re going to need new clothes.” 

“I don’t have the fabric to make new clothes.”

“Not make! Buy!” 

“Oh.” With real ease, Luke stood again, “how do we buy clothes?” 

“We got to a place that sells them, and then we make sure they fit, and then we try them on.”

“When will we reach Corellia?” 

“When we reach it.” Cassian reached of his flask. At the last moment, he saw Luke flinch. He tucked it back into his pocket. “Luke, alright. Do you know how to cook?” 

“I do,” Luke seemed pensive as if he was waiting for Cassian to produce the bottle again, “I was the cook for my master and me.”

“Let’s go cook something the galley.” The spy proposed. 

“A galley? Is that what it’s called?” Luke followed him from the bunkroom to the overstocked galley. “I never knew.”

“Yeah.” What Luke didn’t know would probably fill a few books. “Come on. You’ll want to have the energy for when we reach Corellia. It isn’t a place to be an easy mark in.” 

Luke’s expression was still wary, but he was agreeable. 

“I don’t know what half of these are,” Luke said when they began to take stock of the supplies in the galley. “What are…snacko’s?” 

“They’re snacks. It says so on the box.” 

“They look disgusting.” 

“They’re good for long hyperspace flights when you need something to eat.” Cassian began assembling the ingredients for soup. “I don’t like their taste either so if you don’t want to taste processed crap then don’t try them.” 

“Alright.” Luke set the box back down. “What can you make? What do you want me to make?” 

“Bread.” If the boy were a good cook, then Cassian would kill for some decent bread. 

“I can do that.” Luke agreed, “what kind would you like.” 

“Sweetbread. This is going to be spicy.”

“Spicy!” The blond seemed to bloom before his very eyes, his expression turning the exact shade of excited innocence that Cassian had lost so long ago. “I love spicy; my master couldn’t stand it, but I love it.” He seemed to catch himself. “I’m sorry. Love is not what I meant. I enjoy it well enough.” Luke seemed flustered. 

“I love spicy too,” Cassian agreed, “I try to make my food spicy so the core won’t come eat it.”

“The core? How can planets come eat food?”

“I mean the core world members of the rebellion. Not the actual core.” 

“Oh, so it is a nickname.” 

“Yes.” 

Luke seemed to be more at ease the longer he cooked. “Do I have a nickname?” 

“I don’t know. Do you?” 

“My master only ever called me Luke.” 

“Then you don’t.” Cassian wondered how Luke was supposed to be useful when he knew next to nothing. And what had his Jedi teacher been doing? Hiding on the dusty outer rim planet and training some little kid to be the hope of the rebellion? What did he expect Luke to do that full grown Jedi couldn’t? 

He glanced at the blond from the corner of his eye. 

Luke seemed so…innocent. How could he claim to want to kill Lady Vader when he didn’t understand how dresses. Stars! The boy hadn’t even met a woman before. Every story about Lady Vader was told in hushed tones and in the darkest corners of the galaxy. She was a living nightmare with a temper quicker than light itself. She’d been hunting Jedi since the war ended. 

Compared to the dark majesty of Lady Vader, Luke didn’t stand a chance. 

“Floofy,” he said suddenly. Luke turned from the bowl of flour and milk. 

“What?” 

“Floofy, that’s what you make me think. Floofy.” 

“I…it doesn’t sound like an insult.”

“It isn’t a word,” Cassian said, and he reached over to ruffled Luke’s hair. “That’s just what came to mind. You have floofy hair.” 

“Hey!” Luke protested, but he was smiling. “That’s my hair!” 

“Yeah, I know.” Cassian affectionately pushed the kid away. “Make that bread; this is going to take a while.” 

“Okay. Will you tell me about Corellia? I’ve studied it in the books, but I’ve never seen it before. I’m very…excited. I think that’s the word.” 

“Sound right.” The spy considered the little Jedi. “You want to watch your step on Corellia.” 

#$#$#

Obi-Wan woke with a hangover that sent him on a one-way path to the refresher to stick his head under the flowing water. He tried to wake up in the middle of the freezing water and only barely managed it as someone stomped into the refresher. 

“You’re finally awake.” General Madine said, and he pulled on the force to keep himself from spitting a few horrible swear words. “I’ve never seen anyone drink like that. I’m almost impressed.” 

“Thank you,” groggily he tried to splash his way from the tub and eventually gave up when his heart began to beat a little too quickly. “What hit me?” 

“The last shot, it did. You’re going to want to see this.” He dropped a datapad into Kenobi’s soggy hands. “From our sources in the Empire.” 

“A Jedi?” Obi-Wan pushed back his bangs and tried to focus on the letters swimming in front of him. “Who?” 

“We think it’s the Padawan.”

“Luke!” He sat up and skimmed the report. “What! How could he have been spotted already?”

“We think he was trying to rescue and on-planet spy of ours. Cassian Andor. Vader is hunting the boy as we speak. The Empire’s got their feelers out for a new Jedi.”

“Luke, what the kriff could he have done?” 

“Redirected a tank blast back at them for starters. The green lightsaber mean anything to you?” Obi-Wan continued to groan. 

“Why! His first time out and he’s attacking Imperials!” 

“We haven’t heard from Cassian yet, so if they’re alive, they’ll return to the Alliance if Vader doesn’t catch them first. I don’t want to be him if she does.” 

“What will she do to him?” 

“Torture him to death so much so that he will be dead even if he’s still alive.” Obi-Wan dropped the datapad in the water, “what about your spy? Can you rely on him?” 

“He’s one of our best.” Madine promised, “if anyone can get the boy past Lady Vader it’ll be him.” 

“We need to get to Luke, anyway. We need to find him.”

“He’s only one kid. What can one kid do that you and the other Jedi haven’t?”

“Luke is the Chosen One,” Obi-Wan muttered, completely missing the expression of astonished befuddlement on the other rebels face. “He is destined to defeat the sith and restore the light.” 

“Defeat Lady Vader.” Madine’s expression didn’t falter, “you think that little boy can kill Lady Vader?” 

“It is his destiny,” Obi-Wan replied, and he dropped his soggy robes to the floor and began to towel off his head. 

Madine frowned and then made a face of utter disgust. “Right,” he said after a moment, “right. We’re going to rely on a teenager to kill Lady Vader. The most terrifying person in the galaxy. A woman who, on a regular basis, murders her own officers for incompetence. Who also, just for fun, jumps from drop ships in low orbit without a parachute.” 

“She was always foolish.”

“Yeah, well, the foolish lady has enough money to by a dozen star systems and controls, with an iron fist, the largest fleet in galactic history.” Madine glared as Obi-Wan turned a critical stare on him. 

“General, you wouldn’t happen to be voicing pro-Imperial thoughts?” 

“Shut up, Kenobi, you idiot. I'm pointing out the fact that if you boy does his job, then we’re still kriffed from one end of the galaxy to the other because even if she dies, the Empire doesn’t magically fall to pieces. We still have the entire kriffing galaxy to think about!” 

“Do not fear, General Madine. We will take care of it.” 

“Who is ‘we’ and why does that no fill me with confidence?”

“The Jedi of course,” Kenobi was now too sober and hating it. He eventually managed to get dressed while Madine watched with a firmly judgemental expression. “Where is Master Yoda?” 

“With Mothma.” Eventually, Kenobi stumbled from the room, hungover but functional and Madine followed. He didn’t join the Jedi in the council room, but he left to find another General. 

“Tang?” He knocked on a busted door which was forced open with a kick and a swear word. Madine stared at the small, cramped former closet and the woman sitting cross-legged on the cot standing on top of two filing cabinets. “Sir.” He nodded, and she gestured him in. When he entered the closet, he sat down on the pair of paint cans and tried to keep a mop from falling on his head. “Are you alright?”

“It’s fine.” Formerly High General Tang of the Confederacy of Independent Planets glared down at him and pushed her glasses back up her nose. “I’ve been kicked out of my quarters, befitting my superior rank, for some alcoholic Jedi who has been bravely hiding on some dusty rock for the last decade and a half. I’m now sleeping in a broom closest. Thank you for asking. How are you?” 

“I’m a little annoyed.” He glanced around the broom closet. It was an efficient use of space; he had to admit. The walls were lined with shelving units that were stacked efficiently. The filing cabinets suspended her cot, and beneath it was a small collapsible desk. Aside from the fact that people seemed to forget that these were Tang’s quarters and continued to store cleaning materials in here, it looked pretty good; even if it was tiny. “Sir, I think Kenobi is an idiot.” 

“Just now coming around?” Tang asked, and she glanced back at her datapad. “Welcome to the party. We’ve already lost the war.” 

Madine frowned, “Sir, he thinks the padawan is destined to destroy the Sith.” 

“What?”

“He expects the little padawan, Luke, to kill Lady Vader.” Tang finally looked back up, eyes narrowing.

“Kill…Lady Vader?” She glanced t the ceiling. “Padawan Luke? Who is that?” 

“The padawan that’s supposed to be joining Kenobi for the last of his training. He just outed himself, well, his Jedi status. I don’t the Empire knows his name or his master.” 

“Jedi,” Tang snorted, disgusted. “Can’t stand those idiots.” 

“Sir, I’m worried why the hells everyone is waiting for a teenager to kill Lady Vader and even if he does manage to kill her then what next? We still have the entire Empire to deal with. She’s not the lynchpin for the working of the Empire.” 

“No, she is not, but she is very important. You raise several good points, General.” It was odd to have someone twenty years his junior to hold such a rank over him as well as superior experience, but Tang had the grace and patience of a far older commander. Unlike taking orders from the Jedi, she was far more suited to her task of waging war and directing troops. She had actually had training. “This is why the Council doesn’t like me, General. I’m considered a heretic.” 

“I know why they don’t like you, sir, but I think it’s time to consider that possibility that the council might go the way of the Republic. Using the Jedi philosophies, their tools, the Jedi, it didn’t end well.” He paused as her dark glare turned murderous. After a second he realized that he might have been a little patronizing. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to offend. You already know this.” 

“I’ve been saying it for years,” Tang spat, “but thank you, so much for reminding me that your sudden revelation will have more authority and power than my, oh, twenty years of factual experience! Trying to overthrow this ridiculous power dynamic of Jedi idiocy having raunchy sex,” she gestured to her closet/bedroom, “here, with the self-deluded and back-ass ideals of a Republic that couldn’t have poured water out of a boot with the instructions on the heel.” 

“Ah.” 

“Yes, I am a part of a rebellion that still considers me the end-all-be-all of political evil. Aside from a sith lady of course.” Madine watched Tang visibly pull her temper back and then she nodded. “Kenobi thinks a teenager will heal the galaxy. This is ridiculous, what do you have planned?” 

“We need support, allies, and strength and I don’t think we’re going to find them in the rebellion.” 

“Obviously.” Madine gritted his teeth. “You don’t have anything planned, do you? Just an idea?”

“Yes,” he admitted reluctently as he shifted on the paint can. Tang considered him carefully. 

“You’re fortunate that I do.” There was something disturbing in her voice, and Madine swallowed at the smiled she directed at him. “Have a plan.”


	3. Being

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader reaches new levels of frightening.

It was grainy footage, the camera that had taken it had been heavily damaged in a fall and then doused in several feet of mud and rocks. It was a miracle that they’d managed to recover this much from the broken thing. 

Lady Vader watched the cloaked Jedi jump, impossibly far, into the center of a battlefield. A brilliant green lightsaber blazed to life and began to deflect blaster bolts. The movements spoke of skill and practice, though no real practical experience. The boy must have had a true jedi master to learn enough of the seven forms of saber play to meld them together as needed. 

“Isolation.”

“Sir?” 

“The boy was raised in isolation…or…arrogance.” She turned to Piett. His expression was polite and blank, too well trained to show the confusion that swirled around him. “His cloak,” she explained, “only the truly arrogant would wear a symbol of the Jedi so brazenly. To attack my troops..to ignite a saber.”

“Of course, my lady.” She frowned at the image. Piett didn’t move. It was refreshing in his complacency and training. 

“He is either well trained enough that it would not matter to him,” she mused, “or he is truly stupid. It does not matter; I will have his saber.” Her eyes cut over to the rows and rows of lightsabers she kept on display. She graciously ignored how Piett swallowed audibly. “What do you want?” 

“My lady,” he stepped closer to her desk, he was holding an envelope. “This was just directly delivered from Lady Tarkin.” 

Firmus Piett felt his body seize up with terror as Lady Vader’s eyes, which had been smoldering at a languid yellow, flared into a violent shade of amber. 

“What,” the woman snarled, “does she want?” Piett didn’t dare to understand what the relationship she and Grand Moff Tarkin shared. Some speculated, not within earshot of the sith, that they’d shared a sordid past together. He flinched as she rose to her feet. “Send in the messenger.” She moved with the violent grace of a hunting kryat dragon, which seemed fitting given her draconian temper and incredible size. 

“At once,” he saluted and left to retrieve the trembling messenger. It was a young togruta girl; she was only about fifteen, with wide blue eyes and a nervous stammer that made her nearly incomprehensible. Something the other officers had been mocking her for. Piett thought her life as a slave might have already been difficult enough without the added derision random officers. “Sir.” He stepped to the side. 

Lady Vader’s expression was frighteningly calm as she surveyed the trembling, silent togruta before her. 

“Who are you?” The girl opened her mouth, but not a word came out. The amber eyes looked over the young woman and finally back to Piett. He straightened. “Send for a medic.” 

“Sir.” He wasn’t sure if he’d made the acknowledgment into a question or not. He turned and tapped the command into his datapad when the snap-hiss of a lightsaber made his whip around; filled with certainty that it was about to slice him in half. What he saw somehow more horrifying. Lady Vader has seized the slave's shoulder and, with violent fury, rammed her red blade straight into the teenager's torso. The girl, shocked, stared blankly at the black tabard before her eyes rolled up and she sagged in Lady Vader’s grasp. The red blade vanished before any further damage could be done. Piett was at her side the moment the girl collapsed to the ground. 

“Did you summon the medic?” Lady Vader, seemingly unaffected of her pointless and unmotivated murder, took her seat again. 

“Sir?” He glanced back at her and then at the girl, only to realize that he was getting a steady pulse. The girl was alive. 

“She is not dead, Captain.” Lady Vader told him, “your concern does you merit.”

“Then?” The door opened to allow a team of medics through. He tried his best to regain his composure even as his heart tried to jackrabbit out of his chest. When the togruta was carted from the room, he finally looked back to Vader. “Sir?” 

“Two human males,” Vader said finally, “their first logical step would be to find a new ship, disguises, and fake ID’s.” 

“Of course,” heart still hammering in his chest, Piett tried to calm himself. The girl was alive; he took some solace in that fact. “My lord…” 

“When we drop from hyperspace, have that letter sent back to Tarkin through the regular postal service.”

“Aye, sir.” He saluted and marched from her office. 

#$#$

Obi-Wan felt sober and human after his third cup of caf. He leaned against the back of his chair and felt someone approach. An almost familiar force signature that tugged at his attention. Slowly, he opened his eyes and found himself staring at an unfamiliar woman. 

“Hello?” He waited for a beat. Dark brown eyes focused on him from behind half-rimmed spectacles. Those were expensive and mostly pointless, a call back to an older era. This girl didn’t look old enough for them.

“You’re in my seat, Kenobi.” She said he frowned as familiarity tugged at her. 

“I am?” He didn’t move. “Whose seat?” 

“Mine.” She reached down and yanked on the back of the seat. He was sent tumbling to the ground, cursing and swearing. “Don’t inconvenience me more than you have to.” 

“Who are you?” He slowly regained his feet and waited as the woman took her seat and began unpacking datapads. 

“Tang,” she answered, “you’ve tried to kill me before.”   
“Tang?” He stared and then shook his head, “the Separatist?”

“Now rebel, yes.” 

“You’re younger than I thought you’d be.” He told her and wondered how he’d lost so spectacularly to someone over ten years his junior. 

“I don’t know why?” She said, still turned from him, “I thought you were particularly familiar with child soldiers.” 

“I…what are you doing here?” 

“I am a rebel now, didn’t you hear me?”

“I heard. Why didn’t Vader kill you.” 

“Classified.” 

“Right.” He considered the woman, “what are you doing in the rebellion if you were a Separatist.”

“The Empire would kill me, just as the Republic would have. The Rebel Alliance,” She gestured to the figures now walking into the room, “needs commanders and soldiers who know how to fight a war. They are on the run from the Empire too.” 

“We are.” Mothma said sadly, “these dark days of oppression have made us all against the Empire. 

Tang stared over her glasses at Mothma, “these dark days of oppression aren’t really all that surprising, Mon. I’m going to point out, again, that it was your Republic that heaved and huffed and eventually gave birth to this Empire.” Obi-Wan reeled as Mothma shook her head. 

“I’m sorry, General Tang, I must disagree.” 

“Not sorry enough, for my tastes.” Tang said bitterly, “I might feel better if you’re family members were all shot under false pretenses because of extreme prejudice. Mmmm, considering Vader’s sweep of the Senate, it might happen.” Tang clapped her hands mockingly, “Yay.” 

“Good God!” General Draven stared at Tang, along with the rest of the assembled rebels, “control yourself!”

“I am, notice I haven’t shot her.” 

“We need to get to business,” Obi-Wan said, deciding to ignore the woman, “has anyone heard from Master Yoda in the last few years?” 

“No,” Mothma took her seat, “not since the last call a few years ago. He relayed to us that his Padawan had Fallen and was thus destroyed.” There were some muttered agreements. Tang seemed to be staring at her paperwork and finally spoke. 

“So, what is our plan? The Padawan from the troll is dead, and the Padawan from Kenobi is in the wind.” 

“The Jedi have returned,” Obi-Wan smiled at Mothma, “when the Padawan comes to the Rebellion, he will complete his training. Then, he will defeat the Sith, and the Empire will end!” A few people applauded, and Tang nodded. 

“That’s a lovely thought but, here’s reality knocking on your door.” The assembled council members all stared at her. Saw Gerrara hadn’t stopped glaring at Obi-Wan since he’d limped in, so the Jedi was content to ignore him. “The Rebellion should not align itself with the Jedi Remnants.”

In the chaos and shouting that followed, Saw Gerrara spoke up. “I agree!” 

“Why?” Someone shouted, and Tang tilted her head from side to side. 

“Vader.” A horrified silence fell. Obi-Wan wished for a bottle. “She is hunting him.” She pointed a hand at him. “Hunting him exclusively. She will; she had ripped apart entire planets in the hunt for this man! This man, who gutted her while she was helpless! He ripped out the very children she was trying to protect!” More people joined the shouting. “I’m not suggesting that Vader is at all right in what she’s done since then but, what Kenobi did to her makes her very sympathetic. You can’t ignore this fact!” Mothma was shaking her head. Saw frowned, and Bail Organa seemed heartbroken. 

“Please explain,” Organa finally said. 

“Listen! If we side with the Jedi, we lose that many more supporters. We lose that much more silent aide from senators. Kenobi is the living embodiment of what people hated about the Republic. I know for sure that he is what I hated about it! The Jedi, so smug and secure in their palace while the rest of the galaxy burned!” To be heard above the shouting, Tang was now bellowing. “We lose what little support we have by helping Jedi. He’s been squatting in isolation for the last decade and a half! Evict him, and we fight this war the way it should be fought. Not under the command of some false demi-god! Some arrogant prick who demands everything and, he hid!” The order was returning to the meeting, but Tang was still shouting. “He hid away for years! Suddenly he’s back? Why?” Tang turned to him. “What are you doing back?”

“Lady Vader’s days are numbered,” he answered, almost able to hear her horrible screams which were mingled with the screams of terrified newborns. “I defeated her once. I will do it again.” Someone at the table cheered. 

“Lady Vader hasn’t spent the last decade becoming an alcoholic.” Tang pointed out. There was some muttering, and then someone coughed. “Protecting Kenobi will sound the death keel of the Rebel Alliance. I guarantee that.” 

“General Tang,” Mothma stared at her and then at the Jedi, “I fear your own prejudices against the Jedi might be clouding your judgment.” 

“The same way that you’re idolatry of the Jedi and the Jedi code might be clouding yours?” Obi-Wan shook his head.

“Tang, this is not the time to quibbling over your grudge of having been defeated and losing the war,” He said. 

“You lost more than I did.” Tang replied, “you can’t tell me that you’re not going to bring down the unholy wrath of Lady Vader on our heads just because you think you’re entitled to an army to lead?” Tang stood, abandoning her paperwork as she stomped from the room. 

General Madine watched her leave, his expression faltering with shock. 

“Now, onto other matters.”


	4. Luke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke needs advice. Vader is miserable.

“I can’t wear this.” Cassian pinched the bridge of his nose before glancing at Luke. 

“Why not.” 

“It’s not…right. I’m a Jedi. Why would I wear something that makes me not look like a Jedi?” Luke, confused and unhappy, wore some of the spare clothes found on the ship. Instead of looking like a homeless, vagabond monk, Luke looked like an average homeless vagabond. 

“Very simple, we do not want Vader to sniff you out and then kill you before we do anything else. You want to free the galaxy from the dark?” 

“Yes.” Luke brushed some dirt off his jacket, sighing.

“Then you have to live until then,” Cassian gestured to himself. “Look like me, and no one looks twice at you.” 

“Are you sure? My master says that if you don’t look like you belong then people will shun you. Isn’t shunning paying attention to somone?” 

“Part of fitting or looking like you are supposed to be there,” Cassian handed to clothes over, “is confidence. If you aren’t confident then act it.” 

“Confident?” Luke pursed his lips, “how do you act confident?” 

“Like nothing suprises you,” Cassian slouched against the wall, “you know who you are and where you are and you don’t care if anyone gives you the stink-eye. Stand like this,” Cassian shrugged.” 

“Confident,” Luke muttered, crossing his arms and leaning against the bulkhead. He looked stiff, like a plank of wood somone had propped against a wall. 

“No,” the spy reached over and patted down the boys shoulders, “relax, think relaxed. You look stiff right now.” 

“Relax,” there was a moment where Luke looked deeply constipated, “am I relaxed?” 

“If you have to ask then you should know the answer.” 

“I’m not.” Luke sighed, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re trying,” Cassian shrugged, “you’re doing fine. Have you seriously never reaxed? Think about something you do that you don’t even have to think about. You’re doing your average day, you’re…doing Jedi stuff.” 

“Something I don’t have to think about. Gardening. I don’t have to think about my gardening.” 

“So your brain goes on auto-pilot you are pretty much relax. Think about that feeling and then…just be.” Cassian shrugged helplessly, hopelessly confused. He had never had to teach someone how to relax. He wasn’t sure it could be taught. 

From the look on the Jedi’s face, he knew the kid was trying. Cassian watched Luke’s shoulder loosen just enough and then the tightly furrowed brow smoothed out.

“Do I look relaxed?” 

“Almost,” Cassian bite his lip, “sorry, I don’t know how to teach this.” 

“Hmm,” Luke shuffled against the wall, “now?” 

“It’ll be close enough but even if you don’t get it, it won’t matter. These clothes will help.” 

“Alright,” Luke straightened and his brow furrowned and his shoulders tightened. “How do I put these on?” 

Cassian rubbed his nose and cursed. 

A few hours later, Luke changed into some proper stree clothes and his lightsaber tucked out of sight, the Jedi joined him in the cock-pit. 

“We’re going to drop out of hyperspace in about half a day.” 

“Shouldn’t we eat in the kitchen?” 

“The galley is not where first time flyers go,” Cassian grinned and watched Luke carefully settle into the co-pilots seat, “here.” 

“I’m not a first time flyer,” Luke pointed out, “I did fly to find you.” 

“You did, but I count this as your first flight because I’m sharing it with you.” 

“But it isn’t.” 

“I’m sharing it,” Cassian said firmly, “first time, shush.” 

“Alright.” Luke blinked at the starlines of hyperspace. 

In the compatible silence that followed, Cassian finished off his soup and bread and hummed quietly to himself. 

“Flying was my favorite part.” Luke said suddenly. Cassian looked over.

“Favorite part of what?” 

“Of my training,” Luke tapped his spoon against his bowl. “I like the flying most.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know.” Luke looked away from Cassian, “but I liked it the most.” 

The spy hummed, giving the blond a closer look. Dressed in a regular spacer clothes, he didn’t look special. Like a kid in his older brothers clothes, first time off a farm and in space. He didn’t look like someone destined to destroy Lady Vader. He didn’t look like he was destined to destroy anyone. Unassuming and seemingly eternally confused, Luke looked like any other teenager in a space port.

“Cassian, where are we going?” 

“Corellia. We have to ditch this ship in case the imps managed to ID it or get it’s signature.” 

“How will we get a new ship?” 

“We may not even take a ship out for a few days. Corellia is the best place to hide from imps.” 

“Why?” 

“It is a big planet and it is a big system. It’s crowded and busy all the time, doesn’t matter if its imp or just merchants. Plus locals and tourists and visitors. You’re going to think the whole galaxy is stuck in this system.” 

“My master told me Corellia was a good place to muddle your tracks. He never really explained by, but he did tell me that it wouldn’t be hard to find a way off.” 

“It’s changed a lot in the last decade and a half,” Cassian said pointedly, “it might not be the same as it was.” 

“Well, if we go to the outer rim it’s got to be easy to get into Hutt space. They have a lot of different.” 

Cassian burst into laughter, “hutt space?” Careful of Luke’s feelings, he bit his knuckled and looked away from the blond, giggling. 

“My master told me Hutts had been a part of the outer rim for centuries. That they control much of the territory.” 

“Not since Vader,” Cassian grinned over his hand. Luke’s confusion deepened. “What?” 

“My master told me that the Hutts have always been a part of the outer rim. Even since the days of the Old Republic. They are what defines the outer rim.” 

“No,” the spy worried his lip between his teeth, trying to explain modern galactic politics to someone who had lived with only another man his entire life. “Kid, your master has been in a backwater world, hiding. You think he noticed anything? No, the Hutts are gone.” 

“How can they be gone? I thought they were so ingrained into the economics and society on the outer rim that destroying them would have been disastrous.” 

“Five years ago Vader lost her temper, which isn't strange, she’s got a violent temper. But, she went into the Hutt space and just…destroyed them. I think she massacred nearly every Hutt clan except the…Do’ros clan. There is not more Hutt space…just…the rim systems now.” 

Luke stared and seemed stymied. “I guess a lot has changed.” 

“Definitely,” Cassian bit his lip again, unsure what tell the blond, “Luke, this is the first time you’ve ever been anywhere. You need to be careful. If you bring up the Hutts like they still exist you’ll be pegged to the wall before I could stop them. Do not talk about the Hutts like they’re alive. Don’t even bring them up.” 

Luke nodded slowly. “What do I say?” 

“Until you know what to say…nothing.” 

#$#$# 

The teenage togruta was still alive. Piett had come to the med-bay half-expecting to hear that they’d incinerated her body after it’d been removed from Vader’s office. He was surprised to find that the girl was settled into one the larger wards. 

Piett stopped a nearby attendant and nodded at the girl through the glass. “Is she alright?” 

“Recovering fine, sir. Clean wound, most of the problems she had were malnutrition and dehydration. Do you want to speak to her?”

“Is she coherent?”

“Of course, doesn’t have much to say but she can speak without trouble. If you want to speak to her, go right ahead.”

“Thank you,” Piett let the attendant wander off and knocked on the door. Lady Vader’s most recent victim looked up and seemed confused at his appearance. “Excuse me,” he paused at the door, “may I come in?”

Pale eyes surveyed him before the girl nodded. Piett, in an effort to remain decorous and polite, stopped a few feet away from her bed. 

“Can I help you?” The girl asked, and Piett sighed. 

“I was concerned,” he admitted, “that you had not recovered from your injury. Excuse my messy appearance, miss, I rushed here from my shift.”

She continued to stare at him, confused. “Why?”

“Excuse me?” 

“Why were you concerned?”

Piett fumbled for an answer. “You were hurt.” 

“So?” 

“I wanted to make sure you were alright.” He waited for a moment, “are you?” 

“I don’t…know.” She seemed to settle back against the pillow with little issue. 

“Ah, the nurse told me that you were recovering well enough. I simply wanted to make sure you were.”

“I…” the girl paused, “do not know where I will be going. I am no longer.” 

“Piett.” Piett stiffened like an animal playing dead, the girl squeaked and pressed herself further against her pillows. 

Lady Vader’s voice whipped around the room, nearly a physical reprimand. Piett swallowed hard and turned his head just enough to see the woman standing at the door. Her cloak, normally hanging in one of the closets or abandoned on the ground, was draped over her. He couldn’t see most her face as obscured as it was by the hoods shadows. Still, it wasn’t a stretch to assume that she was glowering.

“Sir!” He saluted promptly, shaking in his boots. 

“What are you doing here?” Vader stalked over to him until she was looming over him, her eyes were the bright blue that meant her mood was more or less stable. Amber would mean that he was skirting close to death. 

“I was,” how did he phrase that he wanted to see if Vader had committed cold-blooded murder on an innocent victim? It wasn’t like it was the first time she’d murdered a random person simply for annoying her. Still, he wasn’t a coward, and he wasn’t going to cower. “Checking on her, sir. I was concerned that she might not have had a successful recovery.” 

“I see.” Lady Vader glanced from Piett to the frightened togruta. “How is the recovery?” 

“The doctor believes she should make a full recovery with few side-effects of her injury.” He paused, the memory of Lady Vader driving the blood red saber through the teenager had come back to haunt him the last few days. 

“Indeed.” The woman side-stepped the shivering man and moved to the bed. Liquid blue eyes surveyed the sith, terrified by her mere presence. “Are you recovering, Anoon?” 

“I,” Anoon opened her mouth and closed it quickly. She stared at the looming woman for a moment. “What are you doing to do with me?” 

“Nothing.”

“Where will you send me? Where will I go?” There was something of significance in Lady Vader’s face. A hidden explanation for her stabbing and subsequent medical aide for the girl. A reason that the girl had been sent and why she wasn’t dead. 

Piett pinned the blame on Grand Moff Tarkin, not just because he hated the man, but because he and Vader had been acquainted long before the Empire rose from the Republic’s ashes. There was a hidden message in Anoon’s presence. Or an insult. 

“You will go home.” Vader interrupted the stream of questions, shocking the girl and Piett. “I have no use for a house slave.”

“I don’t have a family anymore,” Anoon admitted, for the first time since Piett had seen her there was an emotion besides fear. “They were killed when I was kidnapped.” 

“I see.” Vader seemed to calculate what to do. A moment later her metal hand emerged from her cloak and gently, awkwardly, patted the girl's shoulder. Piett bit his lip, unsure how to process the idea that the Sith was trying to comfort someone. “A suitable arrangement will be formed,” the Sith Lord promised. “Piett,” she turned, and Piett straightened even further. “Walk with me.” She swept away from the bed, leaving a confused togruta behind, and stalked past Piett. He bowed one last time at Anoon and hastily followed his commander from the med-bay. 

“Lord Vader,” he trotted to catch up with her enormous stride, “I apologize if I offended you, sir.” 

“I took no offense,” her face was obscured by the hood of her cloak again. Piett was left only to guess what she might look like. He wasn’t sure what to say next and was reduced to silence as he followed her through the winding corridors of the ship. 

They stayed in relative silence for the better part of an hour. Finally, Vader stopped moving and paused in front of an enormous viewport; she stared out at the stare while Piett waited behind her. 

“It will be the 15th Imperial day soon,” Piett nodded as the thick emotion in his commander’s voice was enough to make his own throat close up. Against the backdrop of the galaxy, she looked both larger than life and smaller than he’d ever imagined her.

“I understand there is a particularly large celebration planned on Imperial center.” He finally ventured, and Vader nodded. 

“A waste of time.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“So much left to be done. Jedi to hunt, rebels to destroy.” Piett wondered if he ought to just walk away. “There has been no news on the Jedi,” Vader seethed, “gone. Our leads into the rebellion have gone dry.” Sensing she needed a breathing wall to vent at, Piett tried to quiet his breathing and his presence. Vader seemed content to stand in silence. When she did speak again, it was quiet enough that he had to strain to hear. “My children, fifteen years old. If they are even still alive.” Broad shoulders slumped, “if they lived at all.” Piett heard rather than saw, her press her metal hand against the viewport. Metal clicked against the glass, and she sighed deeply. “Dismissed, captain.” 

Piett bowed and retreated quickly 

$%$%

Tang waited until the entire base was occupied with dinner before she activated her communicator and set out a command to her favorite spy. She lounged on her cot, suspended between two filing cabinets, and sipped the best hooch that engineering offered. 

“You’re calling late.” She slipped her headset on and grinned. 

“I know. So, what’s the update, Andor?” 

“I have the Padawan,” Cassian reported, his voice was a soft whisper, “we’re headed to Corellia to exchange ships and make out way out of the system without being noticed.” 

“A good move,” Tang glanced at the door, checking for eavesdroppers, “tell me about the Padawan.” 

“He’s short and scrawny for his age, but he seems healthy. Clueless though, totally naïve, he thought the Hutts were still the backbone of the outer rim.” 

“Hmm,” Tang considered what that meant for Kenobi, “does he sound like a core-worlder?” 

“No, sir. He sounds…like no one. Mostly like a farm boy, but no significant accent. He’s bumbles around a lot; I’m afraid to let him off the ship in case he gets into trouble.” 

“He’s a Bambi?” 

“He’s a Bambi.” 

“Let him get off the ship. Let him get into trouble. Don’t let him get too hurt and don’t let anyone kill him.” Tang ordered her spy, “and don’t let him come back to the rebellion until I give the say so. If you have too, give him a tour of the galaxy while pretending to hide from the Imps. Also, don’t let the imps in on him, understood?”

“You want me to deliberately keep the Padawan away from the rebellion?” Cassian asked, confused.

“Yes.” Tang sipped her hooch, wincing at the flavor. 

“Why, sir?”

“Politics,” Tang admitted, and Cassian made a noise of irritation. She watched a set of shadows stop outside her door, and she disconnected the call. A moment later the recording of her favorite anti-Jedi comedian from the Clone wars filled her headset. Tang half ignored the already memorized lines as the person outside the closet door eventually knocked. “Who is it?” Cassian would understand the sudden disconnection. Afterall, it wasn’t easy to keep the Separatist part of the rebellion apart from the pro-Republic part of the rebellion. Those sorts of alliances had to be kept undercover. 

“It’s me,” Obi-Wan said, and Tang cursed to herself. 

“What do you want, Jedi scum?” The door slid open, and Obi-Wan stared at her past the probably alcohol induced haze he was in. “You’re drunk.” 

“I’m not that drunk,” he retorted. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“You’re day drunk, that doesn’t make this any better.” Tang hid her own alcohol beneath her pillow, “but what do you want?” 

“We need to discuss my padawan. I don’t know where he is, but he supposed to be with a spy. Mothma told me he was with a spy.” 

“He might be,” Tang said, “but I’m not a spymaster. I’m a general.”

“but.”

“I have no control over any rebellion spies,” Tang lied smoothly, “why are you here?” 

“Right,” Obi-Wan blinked a few times, “why would I ask you?” He left, and Tang cursed him under her breath, before returning to her spy work.


	5. Leia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A temple tries to kill Jyn Erso. Luke wonders where to go.

Beneath a weak sun, deep in the bowels of a planet that shouldn’t exist; Jyn Erso watched her entire crew of pirates down. From her vantage point, clinging desperately to a stone gargoyle, she could see the glass ceiling, so clear it looked non-existent, holding them down even as they pounded at it. They were too far below her, too focused on breaking the glass, and too desperate to breath, to notice her.

They weren’t going to survive. They’d marched into the glass ceiling chamber, ignoring the rising water until it had covered their only escape. Then, there was panic. 

Jyn turned away from the scene and buried her face into her arm and held onto the grotesque decoration even harder. If she strained her ears, she could almost hear them screaming the last of their air out. 

Ever since they’d entered this weird sort of temple thing; it had been actively trying to kill them. And a few minutes ago Jyn had been separated from the group and forced to watch as ever single one of the crew drowned. 

“You’re not dead.” She jerked, and looked up to see a girl glaring down at her. The girl was short, with dark brown hair that was chopped close to her head. A nasty burn scar ran over her eyes, both which were milky white. There was an ugliness in her expression that told Jyn even if the girl couldn’t see, that she could still be seen. 

“Who are you?” 

“Hmm,” the stranger reached down, not to help Jyn up from her perch, but to grab at the cord around her neck. 

“STOP!” 

The cord snapped, and the stranger dangled the pale white kyber crystal in front of sightless eyes. 

“This is why the temple let you live,” the girl mused. 

“What?”

“This is an abandoned Jedi temple,” she replied and lowered the crystal closer to Jyn, “and it responds to stuff like this.”

“I.”

“Come on,” the girl held out a calloused and dusty hand; Jyn reached out. A second later she was off the gargoyle and on a steady ledge. “What is your name?”

“Cani Lanar.”

“Liar.” The girl snorted and began to lead her off the ledge, “what’s your real name?”

“What’s yours,” Jyn demanded. 

“I don’t know anymore.” 

“Anymore?”

“It was taken from me.”

“Can you get it back?”

“I don’t know.” Even blind, the girl seemed to have no trouble navigating the temple. The more Jyn looked, the older the girl seemed. She had to have been about 15, thin and short, with a haunted stance. “I don’t want it.” 

“Oh,” Jyn said, not understanding, “I’m Jyn.” 

“Okay,” she paused in front of an enormous crevice, “come on.” 

“There’s nothing there,” Jyn said, glancing down at the empty space and then at the girl who was half-way across the ravine. 

“What?” 

“There is nothing there,” Jyn repeated, gesturing uselessly, “there is nothing beneath your feet.” 

“Follow me, idiot,” she snapped, “just walk.” 

“But.” 

“Do you want to survive or not?” 

“I want to get out of here and get my crystal back.” 

“Then come on! It’s not astrophysics, just step out and follow me. Cover your eyes if it helps you feel better.” 

“I.” the girl stomped back and seized her hand, yanking her onto open air. Jyn felt her whole stomach seize up as she landed on solid rock, not empty air. 

“What?” 

“I don’t know. I didn’t even know it looked like there was nothing there. Must be one of the stupid traps the temple sets up. Come on; we need to get to my place before nightfall.” The conversation faded as the stranger guided Jyn deeper and deeper into the temple. When they did emerge from the winding tunnels and hallways, they did so into a round room that seemed to have been converted into living quarters. A thin layer of blankets were stretched over a few thick leaves from the jungle outside. A few ratty old cloaks served as a curtain between it and the rest of the room. A fire-pit with some pots and pans and a few shelves of stone that were stacked with various food products that Jyn didn’t recognize. 

“What is this place?” 

“For now it is my home,” the girl stomped over to her fire pit and sat down. Jyn felt her heart crawl up her chest and settle there as pots began to float around on their own accord. Food from the shelves came down, and a few more bottles drifted around too. 

“What?” She whirled around, “what?” 

“I’d use my hands, but last time I did that I added the last of my sugar to the soup and it was disgusting.” 

“Are you a Jedi?” Jyn asked, remembering the forbidden stories her parents had told her. She remembered seeing the broken husk of the Jedi temple from the windows of her room. 

The girl’s reply was sharp, “no.” 

“But you just.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” the sightless eyes seemed to turn away, “not all force users are Jedi.”

“You’re living in a temple with Jedi symbols around it. You’re making things float; you don’t need even to see!” Jyn waved her hand back the way the came. Everything came to a halt. 

“I would give up this power if it meant I got my eyes back!” The girl shrieked; a knife began to point ominously toward Jyn. “It would mean that I wasn’t some abandoned shell. Like a toy that a baby gives up! I never wanted to be burdened with this!”

“I!” Jyn backed up, the girl advanced. 

“I am not a Jedi! I never will be! Say that again and damn what the temple says! I will kill you! Understand?” Jyn tripped backward and scrambled away on her hands and feet. 

“I understand!” She shouted, holding her hands up, “I’m sorry.”

“I.” The girl froze and shuddered. With a wordless snarl, she turned around and stomped back to the fire pit. “Just shut up.” 

“Alright,” Jyn agreed instantly, “alright.” The stranger went about throwing water and meat and food into the pot. When the time came, the girl pulled a familiar metal rod from beneath a pile of junk and ignited a bright green lightsaber. Its emerald glow was exactly as her mother had described once. Power and ancient with a grand history and; the girl was using it to start her fire. 

“I don’t want to hear it.” 

“I didn’t say anything.” 

“You think I should use a lightsaber to start a fire.”

“I didn’t.” 

“You didn’t need to. I can’t see, but I know it was written all over your face.” 

“I was a little confused,” Jyn admitted, “I’ve never seen one before.” 

“They’re a dime a dozen in this place,” she gestured at the soggy walls around them, “when do you plan on leaving?” 

“My ship is outside the temple. I just need to get out of the temple.” 

“Where will you go?” 

“I don’t,” for a brief moment, the memory of Saw Gererra rose in front of her. “I don’t have anywhere to go. 

“I don’t either.” The strange girl chewed on her lip, “I’ll go with you.” 

“Why?”

“I need off this planet and out of this temple. You’re the first person to survive the traps of the temple since it doesn’t matter. I’m leaving with you.” 

“I don’t even know who you are.” 

“I saved you, didn’t I?” 

“You stole my mother’s necklace,” Jyn glowered, “I don’t think that makes it count.” 

“Here,” Leia reached down her pockets and tossed the necklace at her. “I’m going with you.” 

“I don’t even know where I’m going.” 

“That’s fine.” Jyn bit her lip and watched the soup boil. “What now?”

“You don’t have anyone?” 

“No.”

“What do I call you? You’ve got to have a name.”

“I guess,” the girl continued to make the spoon stir the soup, “You’re the first person here in two years. I haven’t talked to myself. I mean, the temple calls me,” the pale brow furrowed, “I don’t know what it calls me. I don’t know the word.” 

“The temple talks to you?” Somehow, between the lightsaber used to light fire and the soup pretty much making itself, Jyn was a little more open to oddities. 

“When it wants to. Not like I want to talk to it.” 

“I’m not calling you Girl. You can call me Jyn.” 

Milky pale eyes turned to her, “Leia.” 

“Leia?” 

“That’s what,” she swallowed, “I was called.” 

“I thought you weren’t sure you could get your name back.” 

“I wasn’t,” Leia hesitated, “I just. Don’t call me Leia in public. You know my name, don’t use it.”

“What do I call you then?” Jyn asked a bowl floated up beside the pot, and some soup dumped itself into it. 

“I don’t know. What’s popular?” Leia was hunched over herself and had her back to Jyn. 

“I,” Jyn sipped the food and nearly downed the entire bowl in one go. It was delicious. “I guess there’s always Sonra, that’s popular.” 

“Then call me that.” 

“Sonra?” 

“You an idiot, Erso?” Leia whipped around, “Sonra. That’s what you need to call me!” 

“FINE!” Jyn shouted, her own temper flaring. Leia didn’t back down, but they glared at each other until enough time passed that awkwardness set in. “Fine.” 

“Fine,” Leia echoed, “where will we go first?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere the Imperials aren’t.” 

“Where is that?” 

“Not a lot of places left. Probably, erm, I don’t know. I can check the ship's databanks for a place though if you want?”

“Yes, anywhere but here.” Leia eventually ate her soup too. Jyn wasn’t sure if the girl wanted to talk to her or if she wanted to kill her, either way, neither girl slept that night. 

E$#$# 

Cassian watched Luke pull on a hideous poncho and hat before groaning and kneading his head. “What are you wearing?” 

“Different clothes!” Luke exclaimed cheerfully, “you said I could not look like a Jedi! I am not looking like a Jedi!” 

“You look like a moisture farmer.” 

“I don’t know what that is, but is that a bad thing?” 

“I,” Luke ignored him, twirling around and sending the poncho twirling about, “no, not really. You just look.”

“Look what?” Luke’s wide open face made his heart sink. 

“You look like a farm boy. Like you’re going to be easy pickings. 

“I almost know what that means,” Luke admitted, “it isn’t so bad. I don’t look like a Jedi.” 

“No,” Cassian agreed, “you don’t look like a Jedi.” 

“I know I don’t!” Luke seemed excited, and Cassian wasn’t sure why. “I’ve never had other clothes before. I’ve always looked like a Jedi! I’ve never been anything else! How do I act like a moisture farmer?” 

“I don’t know,” Cassian said, “I’m not a moisture farmer. Come on,” he moved to the door, “we’re about to come out of hyperspace.”

“I want to see that!” Luke exclaimed, pushing past Cassian and running to the cockpit. “What does Corellia look like? Is it a big planet? I lived on a moon for years and years and years. My whole life! I’ve only ever heard about it in the stories I could convince my master to tell.” 

“It’s probably different from what your master described,” Cassian surmised, “I still don’t know how you didn’t know the Hutts were gone.”

“I don’t think we got updates. Or, if we did, I wasn’t told them. Is that different?”

“Considering Jabba the Hutts execution was public and broadcast across the galaxy, yes.” As he settled into his seat, he wondered if Luke’s education had been deliberately stunted. “Zygerrians are pretty much gone too; slavers live in terror of Vader’s fleets.” 

“Slavers are evil, and Sith are evil,” Luke mused, “but Vader is destroying slavers? I thought Sith built empires off of slaves.” 

Cassian stared, uncomprehending. “Vader kills slavers.”

“I suppose, it still makes sense for her to use slaves. I mean, she is very important and very evil.”

“Kid, I barely know what a Sith is, but I’m telling you. Vader kills slavers.” 

“I got that part; I’m just not understanding why” Luke’s next words were sucked straight from his mouth as the ship fell out of hyperspace. Lanes and lanes of ships stretched around them, all funneling too and from the enormous planet that was miles and miles below. Star scrapers reached up from the planet's surface, scratching at the upper atmosphere. Some of the buildings he could vaugly recognize. To an untrained eye, it probably looked like chaos and ceaseless noise. Busy spaceports were the best place to be, in Cassians’ opinion, safe and dangerous at the same time. He glanced at the Jedi and nearly smiled. The bright blue eyes were open in shock, his expression slack, while his hands reached toward the viewport. “That’s Corellia?” 

“The main planet in the system,” Cassian said, “it’s got four others. Supports five different species.” Cassian remembered Tang’s orders. “We need to get across the planet and get to a new spaceport to leave with a proper ship.”

“Will we go to the rebellion then?”

“Nor right away,” Cassian said, “safety issues. Got to make sure that we aren’t tracked.” 

“Oh, that’s very clever,” Luke agreed, not paying any attention to Cassian. “When will we go back to the rebellion? I have to complete my training.”

“I know, but you can’t complete your training if Vader is hunting you with intent to dismember painfully.”

“That’s true. I do need to learn how to kill the Sith.” Luke’s attention still hadn’t shifted from the chaos of Corellia’s transport system. “What kind of ship is that?”

“That’s a freighter, heavy weight class, no armor and no weapons. Those are escort ships around it. “

“Are they armed?” 

“They are.” 

“Can they fight an Imperial ship?” 

“No.”

“Then we can’t recruit them?” 

“No, I,” Cassian stared at Luke, “we’re not on a recruitment drive. We’re here to hide.” 

“Right.” 

“You can’t tell anyone you’re a Jedi.” 

“I gathered that much,” Luke said as their ship drifted closer to the planet. 

“Don’t tell anyone you’re going to join the rebellion.” 

“Alright.” 

“Don’t tell anyone that you’re going to be joining your teacher either.” 

“Alright.” Luke grinned anyway, “I get to go on an adventure. Don’t tell my teacher this, but I’ve always wanted to go on one. To see the galaxy on my own.” He watched the ships outside the window. “I used to dream about ships like these. At night, when he was asleep, I’d go up the trees and watch the stars. There would be some many people on those ships. Then, I’d go off and see the whole galaxy. I want to see every planet!”   
“There are a lot of them.” 

“Do you thinking anyone’s ever been to them all?” 

“I don’t know,” Cassian admitted while wondering how many he’d ever been to. If he placed in the rankings? 

“I want to be the first person to visit them all,” Luke said, “you won’t tell my master, will you? I’m not supposed to want things like that, but I do anyway. Even if it is breaking the rules.”

“I get that,” Cassian replied, feeling his heart squeezing painfully. “You’re a rebel, right? Don’t you think breaking the rules is what you’re supposed to do?”

“Yeah,” Luke glanced over at him, painfully shy. “A few wouldn’t hurt me, right?”


	6. Mail Order Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tang schemes happily. Luke meets someone. Leia meets some droids.

Tang hadn't distanced herself from the Rebel Alliance without reason. The fewer people paying attention to her and listening to her meant that her side projects could get her full attention. There was still a discussion raging out how to handle Obi-Wan Kenobi and the recovery of his seemingly vanished Padawan. 

Sparked by Tang herself, though she preened every time she remembered the expression on his face. Some people wanted to protect the Jedi; some didn’t. Most want to fight the Empire, but many didn’t want the Republic back. Saw didn’t want the Republic ever to breathe again, but he’d never agree to her plans. Madine seemed ready to do something, but he was still nervous about betraying the Republic or at least worried about betraying Mothma. 

Tang grinned as she set her package down on the counter. The post office worker blinked sleepily at her. “Morning!” 

“Good morning, ma’am. Does your package contain fragile objects? Perishable items, chemicals, or electronics?” 

“Nope!” 

“Sign please,” a datapad slid across the desk, “do you want to pay or expedited shipping?” 

“No, thank you.” The woman glanced at the name on the package and seemed to blink. 

“There’s no guarantee that this is going to be delivered.” 

“That’s fine; I just need to get it sent.” 

“Erm, you do realize that people don’t just…mail Lady Vader stuff.” 

“I know,” Tang felt her fake eyelash sweep against her cheeks as she beamed up at the woman. “I’m just doing what I was told.” 

“Of course,” the office worker clicked a few things on her computer, “you’ll have to sign a waiver that means you understand that it might not even make it to her.” 

“All right,” Tang signed her name and grinned at the confused office worker. “Have a nice day. “

“Yeah,” the woman stared at her as she left the room, the small box still sitting on the desk. “Nice day to you too.” 

The second Tang was gone, the woman slammed her kiosk shut and hustled the package to the back room. “Guys!” The rest of her crew all watched her run over to the insulated box and throw the little package in. “We need to check this thing for booby traps and explosives!” 

#$#$#$

Tang figured she deserved a hot drink. It was 7 in the morning, and the sky was clear, the street was full of happy people, and she needed to blend in. 

She settled onto a metal chair and ordered something called kofi. It was hot and bitter as hell. With a drink in one hand, and assured that her message would make it to Vader, Tang spent the rest of the afternoon playing word games on the holo-net. 

#$#$#$#$

Luke’s eyes were wide and round, his hands were clamped to Cassian’s arm, and he couldn’t stop staring. As soon as the ship had landed, he was near ecstatic to get off.

“Luke, you need to be calm. Everyone is going to notice you, if you act like that.” 

“I’m excited!” Luke exclaimed, “I get to meet real people! I get to see the a world I’ve never been too!”

“You are going to meet people, but this is a rough section of the planet. You have to keep your secrets close. You don’t tell anyone that you’re a Jedi. You don’t tell people that you’re going to kill Vader. You’re Luke, a farmer. That’s it.” 

“I know,” Luke said impatiently, “ I know. Can we go? Please, I really want to meet people.” 

“Alright,” Cassian prayed that Tang knew what he was doing, “come on, Do you have everything?” 

“I do.” Luke looked like a farmer, his clothes were worn, and he carried a large pack with tools that Cassian thought they needed. There was a bag at his waist that was full of food too. Since they were planning on finding a new ship, they had to carry everything with them. “Cassian!” 

“Remember my name?” 

Luke rolled his eyes, and Cassian thought that that had to be the youngest he’d seen Luke act. “You are Tom. I am Don. I thought fake name were supposed to imaginative.” 

“They’re the ones we pick to suit our needs. WE only need to be here long enough to get transport off planet.” 

“Okay.” 

Cassian stared at Luke. “If you’re ready?”

“I’m ready.” 

“Stay close and don’t pick a fight. “

“Okay.” 

Cassian slapped the control for the boarding ramp to descend and hoped he wasn’t making a mistake. As soon as the hot air hit him, he sighed deeply. 

Corellia was a system that called itself home to the most of the galaxy it seemed. Even if you weren’t a native Corellian, you could still call it home. A hundred different cultures and species were mixed together, and the whole system breathed with life. 

He loved it and hated it. It was not his home, but since he couldn't go home again, it was the closest he had to a home. For Luke, he was sure it meant a new flavor of freedom. It meant that he was not out of reach of Kenobi. It was out of reach of the Empire, so long as they were quiet, and it was beyond even the Sith Lady. 

Lady Vader and Corellia hated interacting and dealing with each other. Something that was infamous that galaxy over.

“Wow.” Luke skittered down the boarding ramp and waited at the very edge. “Tom?” 

“Coming,” Cassian followed the blond down the ramp and onto the landing pad. “Don’t wander.” He moved to the landing pad operator and passed over enough credits to keep the man quiet. As soon as he knew that the ship would be left alone long enough, he wandered out onto the busy street. Luke’s grip on his arm didn’t let up; his eyes flitted from the buildings to the people, to the sights and sounds around them. “We’re going to find my contact.” 

“A contact like who is going to help you get off the planet?” 

“Yes, exactly.” 

“I was told about those,” Luke’s eyes wandered to an overweight human trying to bend over and tie his shoe. Cassian urged him on before he was considered to be staring. “Who is it?” 

“A man called Du, he’s not a nice man. I don’t trust him. I need you,” Cassian side-stepped a puddle of vomit. Luke followed neatly behind, wrinkling his nose at the sight and the smell. “To be quiet. He’s one of the last criminals on Corellia that hasn’t had his trading cracked down on.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Criminal trading followed right after Vader, smuggling. This guy’s got one of the last smuggling rings in the system.” 

“All smuggling is gone?”

“It was pretty chronic before the Republic fell. It’s not so much gone, as it is that they’ve started arresting people more for it.

“Oh.” 

“Du only has a matter of time before he gets arrested,” Cassian pulled Luke to a stop and stared at the sentries stationed outside the familiar shop. They were slouched over, different weapons in plain sight, and looked bored. “Luke, pull your hood over your face. There are going to be cameras, stay hidden.” Luke obediently pulled his hood over his head, and retreated into it. He seemed quiet and mysterious now, which wouldn’t help anyone if they started fighting. 

Cassian had seen Luke fight before. He was a lethal force of nature with his lightsaber. 

“No matter what happens,” he hissed, “don’t pull your blade.” Luke nodded, and Cassian bit his lip as he sauntered up to the shop. He didn’t make it to the door. A long leg blocked his path, the man lounging just beside the door, rested it on the opposite wall. 

“We’re closed,” the man said, glance flickering from Cassian to a silent Luke. 

“Sorry,” Cassian held his hands up, displaying a small metal token. “I thought this belonged to Du.” 

“Belonged to Du,” the man grinned grimly, “under new management.” 

“Oh,” Cassian stepped backward. Every instinct told him to get out of there as quickly as possible. He stumbled over Luke, how hadn’t shifted. “Then I was mistaken.” 

“Or not.” Behind him, the other sentries had closed in. A grim faced togruta and human woman glowered at him, weapons at the ready. “I’m sure the boss wants to meet a new client.” 

Luke clutched his arm, and Cassian was hyperaware of how vulnerable the boy looked. So much shorted, so much smaller, draped in tan and gray. It made Cassian vulnerable. 

“Fine,” he bit out, still hiding Luke behind him. Luke visibly trembled, scared from the minor confrontation as he hadn’t been in the heat of battle. Cassian let himself be ushered into the shop, and into the back room where he’d usually met with Du. 

There was a woman in his place. A tall, twi’lek. with skin so black it made the sky look pale. Bright blue and green tattoos stretched over her lekku, down to her face and neck and vanished into her shirt. They seemed to glow in the low light of the room, giving her face an eerie glow. 

He heard Luke gasp and speak before Cassian could slap a hand over his mouth. “You’re beautiful!” 

The woman didn’t blink, no doubt use to such declarations. Her pale eyes swept over them, and settled on a now stiff Luke. “You’re an honest one.”

“He didn’t mean to be.” Cassian stepped in front of Luke.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” 

“I just,” Luke stammered, but didn’t life his head and didn’t let his face show. “I just.” 

“What?” 

“I’ve never,” Cassian squeezed his hand warningly, “I’ve never met a woman before.” 

There was a moment of absolute silence. Luke seemed to shrivel up, Cassian felt deeply for the kid when she began to laugh. It was not a delicate laugh, but one that seemed to shake her to her core. It bubbled up a long throat and fell out amide desperate gasps for air. 

“Can we get on with business?” Cassian demanded after a moment too long. “We actually have places to be.” 

“Ah,” she sighed, wiping at her eyes. “I have to admit, that’s cute.” Luke mumbled something, her grin was too sharp to be kind. “Cute. How refreshing, I thought humans couldn’t get anymore annoying. 

“Business,” the rebel gritted out. The woman’s eyes turned to Cassian. 

“You are the rebel contact?” He gave a jerky nod, “they called you Tom? I expected someone,” she trailed off meaningfully. “Taller.” 

“Too bad.” 

“No need to bite,” she gestured at the desk behind her. Holograms sprang to life. “I’m not going to sell you out. I see your rebels contract with my predecessor was rather stiff in his favor.” 

“Yes.” 

“You seem intelligent. I’ll cut my price in half for the next three years.” 

“What’s the catch?”

“I need you to run an errand for me.” Cassian tilted his head to the side, nervous. “It’s not a long one, just up the street. Shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes if your quick.” He was probably going to be shot, but he nodded. The rebellion needed credits and the less they spent on retaining a sketchy information broker, the more they spent on weaponry. 

“What is it?” Cassian asked. 

“I need this,” she held up a small clip of metal and stones, “returned to the shop where I got it.” 

“Really?” It didn’t look big enough to hold a data stick. Still, Cassian took it with a wary glower. “Where do I take it?” 

“A place called Zelmo’s. The woman at the front desk will give a receipt. Bring it back.” 

“And then you fix the deal?”

“Sure, I’ll even help you with whatever you came to get from Du.” 

“Come on, kid,” he stepped back and pulled Luke after him. 

“You can leave him here,” the woman snagged tow thin fingers. Cassian’s grip on Luke tightened. “He’ll be fine here, I promise.” 

“What are you promises worth?” 

“Enough,” she tilted her head to the side, Cassian growled. 

“I’ll be fine,” Luke muttered quietly, “go.” 

“Kid.” Luke tilted his head up. Cassian met the bright blue eyes. 

“I’ll be okay,” Luke promised with total sincerity. “You can go.” 

“How can you be sure?” Cassian asked, Luke’s mouth twisted into a smile. “Alright. I won’t be gone long. Remember what I told you.” 

“I will.” 

“Where can I find this Zelmo’s?” He demanded. The woman’s grin turned dangerous, “my boys will give you some directions. Go on,” she waved at Cassian who took a few steps back and new he was making a mistake. When he was on the street again, he looked back at the building and hoped the Luke would be okay.

#$#$

Luke hadn’t gotten used to how odd the planet seemed. There were a million different scents in the air, a hundred different people to look at, and even more to see. He knew he’d made something like a mistake when he told the contact that she was beautiful. Laughing was apparently an appropriate response. That was a new piece of information. 

“So,” the woman sat on her desk. Luke shuffled back. “Never met a woman?”

“I don’t,” Cassian didn’t say he couldn’t talk. “I’ve never met anyone else besides me, teacher and Tom.” Her forehead wrinkled, Luke blushed. 

“Really?” 

“I’m sorry if I upset you,” he said, unsure what he could actually say. Everything was so new and odd. She really was only the third person he’d ever met. 

“You didn’t upset me,” she assured the Jedi. “I was surprised. So, what sort of life did you have if you’ve never met anyone?” 

“I was a farmer.” Luke parroted automatically, “I never got out much.” 

“You never got out at all,” the woman retorted. “I’m curious, what made you leave?”

“I,” Luke paused. Why had he left? Why had he left so early? Why had he deviated from his flight plan? Why had he…? “I was needed.”

“Needed where?” Luke shrugged. “So, what do you think? The third person you’ve met. The first woman, what do you think?” 

“Not everyone can look like you,” Luke said.

“I am a black twi’lek. For the moment, I am the only twi’lek with this coloring.” 

“I don’t think all women can be like you,” Luke turned his head to glance out the door. 

“No, no two people are much alike,” she agreed. “I bet there aren’t many like you.” 

“I don’t think so.” Luke wanted to peek out of his hood to get a better look. He wanted to ask a hundred questions, he wanted to listen to everything. He couldn’t give himself away.

“Since your friend is going to be gone, would you like something to eat?” 

“To eat?” 

“To drink, I also have drinks.”

Accepting drinks was polite on certain planets, and others it meant that you were intruding. Luke suddenly couldn’t remember which planets fell into which list. He wished his master had actually given him a change to practice. Finally, he settled for an answer that should work. “I don’t want to be rude,” Luke said quietly. 

“It’s not rude. I offered you the drink.”

“I don’t even know your name,” Luke bite his lip. Obi-Wan had been pretty clear on stranger danger.

“You can call me Du.” 

“But you’re name isn’t Du.” 

“And you’re name isn’t Don or Tom. I am not judging.” 

“Alright,” Luke nodded. 

“Good!” Du clapped her hands, and someone poked their head through the door. 

“Boss?” 

“Order lunch for us! Put it on my tab.” 

“Anything, in particular, boss?” 

“Nope, just make sure there are buns and some dumplings too. Some tea wouldn’t go amiss.” 

“Sure thing, boss.” The person disappeared, and Luke took the seat the Du nodded to. 

“So, what do you like to eat?” 

“Anything,” Luke said honestly. “As long as it doesn’t cry when I’m trying to eat it.” 

“Won’t eat crustations?” 

“My teacher tried to make some for me once. He threw them into a boiling bot, and I could hear them screaming. I don’t,” Luke shrugged, “it was not a good noise.” 

“Hmm.”

#$#$#$##$

Captain Piett shifted from foot to foot and waited as the head of engineering gave him an in-depth explanation of the recent upgrades added to the ship. An explanation that made no sense and was stuffed with so much technical jargon it was as if the man was speaking another language. When the man was finished, he was more confused than before and knew that his report would not be finished in time to submit to the Admiral. 

“Thank you,” Piett said hurriedly before the man got a second wind and drowned him in nonsense. “I am sure that will help the admiral immensely. I believe that you may be needed,” he pointed to a small crowd of trainees hovering to the side. The head of engineering clapped his shoulder and wandered off. When he was out of earshot, and the room seemed almost empty, he mopped his forehead. “That made no sense.” 

“He doesn’t usually.” A woman’s voice echoed near his shoulder. Piett jumped and blinked when no one was there. 

“Excuse me?” 

“He’s a good engineer and mechanic, but his people skills need work. He doesn’t usually make sense unless you have at least three degrees in mechanics.” 

“I’m sorry,” Piett said, “I can hear you, but I can’t see you.”

“The shuttle a few feet away,” the voice said, “come sit next to it. I’ll break it down.” Piett felt relief rush through his system, and he obeyed the mystery voice. 

“Thank you; I am Captain Piett of the primary bridge crew.” 

“I know,” the woman said. Piett felt something tug at his sense, but he settled onto a toolbox beside the shuttle. “Listen from the beginning.” She spoke quickly and clearly. Whatever seemed too complicated or confusing was broken down into easy sentences. Piett occasionally passed her a tool when she requested one. When his report was almost drafted, and the explanation was over, Piett rubbed his forehead and sighed. 

“I’m grateful for your assistance,” Piett said honestly. “I wasn’t sure how I’d get that report finished when I didn’t understand half of it.” 

“That’s fine,” the mechanic answered, “he is a good officer and mechanic. Don’t lose faith in him.” 

“I don’t think so,” Firmus yawned, “I’m more concerned with something else. If you are so good with mechanics and explaining them, why doesn’t he have you deal with the reports?”

“I deal with enough reports on a regular basis,” she said grumpily. Piett felt his mouth twitch into a smile at the animated annoyance, “enough to power the galaxy. Honestly, I get so many useless reports. It’s a waste of time to try and read most of them.” 

“I’m sorry. Paperwork is the least favorite part of my day. Recently I had to write a report to Governor Tarkin, which is always unpleasent.” 

The mechanic barked out a laugh, “that man is,” the woman resulted to cursing furiously for a few seconds. Piett nodded in agreement. 

“I don’t know what you said, but I agree with the sentiment.” 

“No doubt.”

“I’m not even sure what I was writing!” Piett found himself saying. “It was about a recent insult I think his wife might have sent the Master and Commander. I don’t even know what the insult was or even what it meant, but goodness. I had to pretend I understood a situation that I was so lost in.” 

“How is Anoon?” 

“Oh, she seems to be getting better,” Piett found himself stiffening. Not many people could have known her name. “Erm.” 

“She is a nice girl,” the mechanic continued and muffled swearing took over the conversation as something broke and oil began to spill onto the floor. Piett waited for her to contain the situation. “But jumpy.” 

“She has every right to be,” Piett defended the poor togruta. 

“Correct.” The woman hummed under her breath, “another orphan without a home to return to.” Piett wondered at the sadness in her voice. It felt bitter and hurt. In the toolbox, you’re sitting on there’s a Corellian spanner wrench. Pass it?” 

“Of course,” Piett opened it and wondered what it looked like. After a few minutes of tentatively identifying different tools, she spoke. 

“You have no idea what it looks like, do you?” 

“I do not,” he admitted and watched as a particular tool pick itself up and zoom under the shuttle’s side. For a breathless moment of terror, he was sure that his head was being removed from his neck and he’d be dead. When he was still breathing a moment later, he spoke. “Sir?” 

“What is it, Piett.” 

“I,” he swallowed and knew his mouth was dry as a desert. Carefully, he leaned over to see under the engine part. Lady Vader was propped up on a mechanics pad, wearing and looking comfortable in a mechanics uniform that was so stained it had lost most of its original color. Her hand were busy with something in the engine; her eyes were focused and a solid blue. Her braid had fallen from it’s bun and was half-laying in a puddle of oil. She looked…different. “I aplogize,” he said hastily, not sure what he was apologizing for. 

“There is nothing to apologize for,” Vader corrected him, still not looking at him. She seemed wholly engrossed in her project. 

“I,” he swallowed, “spoke out of turn?” 

“No.” He wondered where her infamous fury was. Men and officers had said less, and had been choked for it. People had implied less and had suffered for it. Piett wondered if he was an exception of if she was just in a good mood.

“This report was supposed to be for you, sir.” Piett swallowed. 

“You would presume to lecture me on.” 

“No, no, no,” he hastily denied, “of course not. It was merely a formality. I would never.” 

“Don’t interupt me, Piett.” His jaw clicked shut and he wished that he could stop himself. “I am aware the report is more for the admirals benefit. I helped design the new systems.” He didn’t say anything. “Since you’ve lost your ability to speak, leave.” 

“Aye,” without another word, Piett abandoned the hangar and left the Sith to build her ship. 

#$#$#4

Jyn knew of only one shipy repair shop would treat the two of them well. Two teenagers roaming the galaxy might not be as common as it was, but people would still try to take advantage of them. 

“Where are we?” 

“A place on Lothal,” Jyn said as Leia wandered into the control room. “There’s work that needs to be done on the ship before we can go far. This was one of a closest places.” 

“Okay,” Leia moved slowly until she’d taken the co-pilots seat. “I sense Imperials.”

“It’s an Imperial held planet, but no one cares about it. It’s too small and nothing grows here except grass.” 

“Tall grass?” 

“Yeah,” Jyn watched the familiar droid wander into the hangar and waved up at her. “I don’t know how long we’re going to be here. We may have to get comfortable, and we’re going to have to hide your glow stick in case we get inspected. I know an ID forger who can get you what you want.”

“That sound useful,” Leia observed, “where are you going?” 

“To check in with the superintendent. Last time I was here he wouldn’t let us stay overnight. Well, that’s when I was.” Jyn stopped and bit down on her anger. That was when she was still travelling with Saw. That was when she was a rebel soldier. “Just give me a few.” 

The gold droid looked almost the same as he usually did. His frozen face somehow looking confused and surprised even when set in metal. 

“Welcome to the Shipyards of Lothal City!” The gold droid waddled happily over, “how can we help you?” 

“I need to stay a while,” Jyn said, “um, it’s not severly damaged, but it needs work before I make any serious trips.” 

“Oh! We can accommodate a stay, our rates of.” The droid trailed off. “AH! I remember you.” 

“I was hoping you wouldn’t,” Jyn stuffered hands in her pockets, “look, I’m not running with any crew. It’s just me and my passenger.” 

“Hmm,” the gold droid shifted a bit, “I will have to speak with my associate.” The blue and white astromech was already rolling out, beeping. 

“I’m not with my old crew,” Jyn said, knowing just how horrible the blue droid could be. He’d shocked Saw last time with a weapons grade taser. “I promise. Just me and a passenger.” 

R2-D2 made an ugly blat and seemed to stare at her. 

“My passenger just got off her planet. She needs somewhere safe to stay. Please, Artoo?”

“Artoo wishes to meet your passenger,” Threepio said, “before he agrees to anything. Really, Artoo, this is overkill as Master Ani used to say. This young human is not going to bring trouble to our doorstep. We get into plenty of trouble on our own.” 

Jyn rolled her eyes and went to retrieve Leia, only to find her stumbling over the junk laying in the hallways. “Sorry about the mess.” Liea muttered to herself as Jyn led her out of the ship and toward the two droids.

“You didn’t tell me that they were droids. I didn’t think,” Leia paused as Artoo tundled up to her. “Hi.” 

“My associate says hello and that he’d be happy to help you two repair your ship.” Jyn wondered what about Leia had made Artoo agree to let them stay. He was a notoriously stubborn droid. “And that if you two are going to need long-term accomodations, that our attic is available for your use.” 

“Thank you,” Leia didn’t move until she held out a hand which Artoo rolled up to. She patted his dome. “Where is this attic?”

“Follow me!” Threepio said excitedly, “its been so long since we’ve had long-term guests!”


	7. Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Du didn't mean it, Luke didn't know better.   
> Leia and Jyn don't like to share.   
> Vader gets confused and then some revenge.

Cassian returned to Du’s office expecting to find Luke getting arrested, his face punched in, being tortured, or anything that was unpleasant and evil. 

He found Luke chewing curiously on the end of a fruit twist, and staring at the brightly colored package with intense focus. The plastic wrinkled under his hands and he turned it over. 

“He’s never eaten them before,” Du said. She was leaning against her desk, arms crossed, and watching Luke with a contemplative gaze. “They sell these everywhere. I’ve never found a planet where they don’t.” 

“Yeah,” Cassian passed her the receipt, which she took without looking at it. “He hasn’t,” he caught sight of the other candy packages, sweet wrappers, and pastry boxes. A few scattered boxes of take-out were piled in the trash “What did you do?” He demanded, whirling around to look at Luke, who now looked queasy. “What did you feed him!” 

“He said he’d never tried any of this before,” Du exclaimed. “I wasn’t about to let him go without! What kind of monster do you take me for?” 

“The idiot who feeds someone who has never had this much sugar and candy, all of this at once!” Cassian shouted. Luke set the bag down and sat down heavily. “He’s never eaten this much in one sitting ever! What do you think is going to happen?” 

“He might throw up!” 

“His stomach is going to explode!” The spy and criminal turned to Luke as he whimpered and held onto this stomach. 

“Is it really?” He asked. “Is my stomach going to blow up?” 

“So I made a mistake,” Du admitted readily as Cassian rushed to the blonds side. 

“No, Bambi,” he assured the boy. “Your stomach is not going to blow up. It’s just an expression. Du here is going to call a doctor to make sure you don’t get too sick.” He glared at Du, who shrugged and went to the door and left. 

“I’m sorry,” Luke muttered, hunched over as he was the words were muffled. “I just wanted to try it. I didn’t mean to.” 

“It’s alright, you didn’t know.” Cassian muttered, patting Luke’s back gently. “It’s okay.” 

“I really liked them all,” he said dolefully. “I.” He clapped a hand over his mouth and Cassian reached around to grab a bucket and shoved it under Luke’s nose just as the padawan vomited. Cassian looked away, but kept rubbing Luke’s back as he hurled the contents of his stomach. 

“It’s okay,” he muttered, “it’s okay. It’s just a little vomit. Don’t worry.”

From the depths of the bucket came a miserable wail. “I’m sorry,” Luke hiccuped, when his face reemerged it was bright red and his eyes were shiny with tears. “I didn’t want to throw up.” 

“No one ever does,” Cassian told him, “you just ate way too many sweet, way to fast.” 

“It’s not just that,” Luke muttered, he looked away and rubbed his face and spat a few time to get the taste of vomit out of his mouth. “It’s been hurting for a while.” 

“What?” 

“My stomach,” the blonde said, “I just. It hurts all the time.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” The spy demanded and sighed when Luke flinched and hunched over his bucket. “Sorry,” Cassian rubbed his face. “Do you think it could be the change in your food? You’re not eating like you normally do?” 

“No,” Luke admitted, “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.” 

“It’s okay, Bambi.” The door swung open and Du led a doctor in. A tall human, with dark hair and sunglasses on. “Who are you?” 

“Dr. Pierce, really wishing I hadn’t eaten out this morning,” The man slouched over, and hefted a black bag. “Want me to examine the patient?” The spy reluctantly stepped back and watched at the doctor knelt down and watched Luke’s wary expression. “You alright kid?” 

“I don’t think I need a doctor,” Luke told him, “I’m okay.” 

“You just threw up?” 

“I did eat,” Luke waved at the food scattered around the office. “I never tried any of them before.” Dr. Pierce and Cassian exchanged a look and then glared back at Du, who shrugged. 

“How was I supposed to know? He’s old enough to know his limits.” 

“That’s fair,” Dr. Pierce glanced at Cassian, “if he just threw up then there’s not much I can help with.” 

“He’s not used to eating this stuff,” the spy interrupted. “He’s used to growing his own food and making everything from scratch. Flour and everything. Butchering his own meat. I want to make sure he isn’t going to have a reaction to this.” 

“I think,” Dr. Pierce said, and Cassian glowered. The man relented. “I think we should get him to the clinic if you want to get him checked out fully.” 

“But we can’t!” Luke protested. Du raised an eyebrow, Cassian rubbed the front of his face, and Dr. Pierce looked like he wanted a drink. “I have to join my master.” Luke didn’t notice the way the adults exchanged a series of glances. 

“Your master?” Dr. Pierce finally pressed, and Luke nodded. He moved to stand, and sat back down with a miserable groan. “What master?” 

“I’m supposed to be joining him,” the blond said as he stuck his head back in the bucket with a whine. “I’m going to be sick again.” 

“Why would you join your master?” Du asked. Cassian went to intervene, but Luke spoke first. 

“Because he told me to. I was supposed to leave and then go to him but I got sidetracked when he was in trouble, and now I’m supposed to go. I don’t have time to go to a clinic. I’ve never been to one before now. I don’t need to go to one now.” 

“You’ve never been to a clinic?” Dr. Pierce demanded, look at Cassian. 

“Don’t look at me,” Cassian exclaimed. “I didn’t know.” He took little pleasure in how Luke a phrased his answer. 

 

“Why haven’t you been to a doctor? Everyone needs to see a doctor. Haven’t you ever been sick?” 

“Of course I’ve been sick!” Luke’s head emerged from the bucket again. “Everyone’s been sick! I just,” he sighed and spat out another mouthful of spit. “I’ve just never been to a doctor. Master said we didn’t need one.” Cassian didn’t miss the way that the doctor looked at Du and then at him. 

“Excuse us,” Pierce said hastily and scrambled back, grabbing the criminal and the spy as he did so. “Listen,” he whispered to them as soon as they were on the other side of the room. “I’m not saying that kids an escaped slave.” His meaningful look at Cassian made the spy shrug in reflexive defense. “But that kid has to be an escaped slave.” 

“Pretty much,” Cassian admitted. He heard Du curse to herself. “Listen, I lied because he’s hiding. I have to keep him safe.” 

“I can help,” Du promised, “if you’d told me he was an escaped slave, I would have helped more. I know a guy you can take him to.”

“Why would I take him anywhere?” Cassian hissed, The twi’lek glowered at him. “I don’t trust you.” 

“I don’t blame you,” the woman admitted, “but he is legit. He helped me recuperate, he’s helped dozens of people. He can help rehabilitate Luke for the outside galaxy.” 

“Luke is.” 

“He needs help,” Dr. Pierce said, without prompting. They glanced back at Luke. He was sniffing and rubbing at his nose. He didn’t seem interested in their conversation. “I can tell you right now that he needs help. What was you plan?”

“We have to keep running and hiding.” 

“Running and hiding isn’t going to help help him. He needs something stable.” 

Cassian seized the doctors front, snarling. “Listen to me, idiot. He has been confined, and in prison his whole life. He has only known one other person in the entire universe! I am not sending him off to some strange man who might try and manipulate him for his own ends. I won’t let it happen.” 

“He is a good man and he doesn’t live in some fancy compound,” Du interjected. “He lives in a little apartment in a district a few klicks away. He has a lot of family nearby. He is a safe person. I can vouch for him.” 

“You are a criminal,” Cassian hissed, “I don’t trust you.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“Excuse me,” the too thin voice of Luke piped up. They turned as a group to the teenager. He looked miserable on the floor. “What are you talking about?” 

“You need to go to the clinic,” Dr. Pierce said, overriding Luke’s frightened expression, he continued. “Just to make sure you aren’t going to have a reaction.” 

“I just,” Luke looked even more queasy, and Cassian glowered at a very depressed Du. She shrugged at him after a moment of staring.

“I didn’t know.” 

“I thought it was nice,” the blond said wearily as Cassian moved to help him to his feet. He looked a bit shell shocked, eyes blown eyes and his face flushed. 

“Doc,” Cassian made sure the blond could stand on his own. “Can we go?” 

“Sure, we can go.” Dr. Pierce packed up his bag and then he turned to the criminal, who shrugged. 

“I’ll foot the bill,” she said despondently. 

As they left, Luke glanced over to Cassian. “Can we come back for a visit?”

“Why would you want to? She got you sick?” 

“I ate the food.” 

“You didn’t know what would happen.” 

“Neither did she,” Luke hedged, and Cassian had to agree. 

“We don’t know where we’re going to be,” he replied, guiding a still swaying blond through the busy streets. Luke’s attention snapped from the conversation, to the surrounding area. 

“I know I’m supposed to go back to my master,” Luke coughed a bit and made a face. “But I could stay here for a while.” 

“You want to stay?” 

“I,” Luke shuffled his feet in a way that had nothing to do with being lightheaded after emptying his stomach. “I just met a woman for the first time.” He didn’t turn to Cassian. His attention was focused on an ancient twi’lek man who was sitting on a front stoop and carving slowly at a piece of wood. He continued to stare until the twi’lek looked up. Luke waved a greeting that the man returned, confused. Cassian tugged the blond along. “I know that I’m supposed to finish my training, but.” 

“But what?” He looked at the back of the doctors head. The man had the grace to pretend he hadn’t heard anything. 

“Do you think that I could say that this qualifies as training?” 

“What?” 

“Talking to people,” Luke said, “leading them out of the darkness. My master said that the dark could only be defeated by defeating the Sith, but I think that might be wrong.” 

“You mentioned that.” 

“Obviously the Sith are responsible for a lot,” Luke said and he waved at another passerby. They didn’t have time to wave back, the only stared. “But what if there was a way to spread the light a different way. I once heard that one lit candle can light a thousand candles and keep the darkness away.” 

“Where did you read that?” 

“I was little,” Luke admitted, his attention turned upward as a tow vehicle flew by with cargo attached to its undercarriage. Bright blue eyes widened, he gaped. Cassian let him stare, at least he wasn’t fighting visiting a clinic anymore. “I don’t think I memorized it properly.” 

“That sounded right.” He was a spy. He only knew enough of poetry and literature to pass as a student when he needed to. 

“I never finished it. A flood washed out our house.” 

“A flood?” 

“The first one that he’d built. It was in what the old books called a flood plain.” Luke stumbled to a halt as they came in view of the clinic. Like any other clinic, the walls were white with two red x’s painted on the side. “Um.” 

“What’s wrong?” Dr. Pierce turned around. Cassian knew he had to be feinging his confusion. 

“I’ve never been,” Luke began, and he stopped.

“You ate a dozen new sweets.” Cassian prompted. 

“Those made me throw up.” He looked green again, this time not at the thought of the food he’d shoveled down. 

“You met a woman today. You landed on an unfamiliar planet.” 

“This is different,” Luke insisted, “much different. I’ve never.” 

“But your sick,” Dr. Pierce told him, “sick people visit a clinic to get help.” 

“I’m sure I’m fine,” Luke took a few nervous steps back. 

“I’ll stay with you,” Cassian promised. “No one will hurt you.” 

“I’ve just heard that doctors are very unpleasant and a neutral sort of evil.” Cassian ignored how the man in front of them cursed furiously under his breath. “Erm, if you stay with me then I’ll go.” 

“That works too,” Dr. Pierce muttered, “come on. I have a feeling we may need to a lot of work with you.” 

Luke reluctantly followed Cassian into the clinic, each step he resembled more and more of a prisoner being led to the gallows. 

#$34

 

Jyn had sort of expected Artoo and Threepio to try and get rid of them as fast as possible. That the droid would have gotten his cohorts to fix their ship overnight and kicked them out at the crack of dawn.

Instead she woke in a cramped, but comfortable attic bedroom with the blind not-Jedi sleeping uneasily next to her. The sun was high overhead, judging by where the sunlight fell on the blankets. She wiggled her toes, which were warmer than she’d expected. 

Her bags and Leia’s few possessions were still in their cases and stacked neatly next to the couch. A few plants hanging from stands and the ceiling, gave the oddly shaped room a lively feel. The slanted ceiling, had been modified to hold long shelves that were mostly accessible. They were lined with bits and odd ends that Jyn didn’t recognize. A few glass bottles of twisting shapes, a mug, three books made of flimsi, a statue of a nexu, a statue of a dragon, a weird bit of wire. Jyn thought the might have been left behind by people who’d previously stayed in the bed. 

It was a comfortable bed too, sitting on a wooden frame that had to have been horribly expensive. Since neither droid needed a bed, Jyn wondered why it was here at all. In fact, she wondered why the droids let anyone stay in their sanctuary. What else was odd, was the fact that the blankets and pillows were not synthetic materials. 

They were made with real cotton and silk and wool, and they were stuffed with real feathers and other bedding materials. 

Jyn surveyed the brightly colored blankets, and then the homey, if cramped, attic room. 

“You’re thinking too much,” Leia grumbled sleepily. “Be quiet.” 

“Huh,” Jyn looked over to her bed partner. The other girl looked asleep. “What’s wrong?” 

“You’re loud.”

“I didn’t say anything.” 

“Your brain is loud.” The flash of irritation that she felt must have been enough, because Leia opened her sightless eyes and frowned in her direction. “I can’t help it.” 

“It’s too early,” Jyn complained instead of rising to the bait of arguing. 

“I think we slept in.” Leia seemed too comfortable to move, she sighed and rolled over. “Not like I can help with the fixing of the ship.” 

“Probably not,” Jyn pushed back the covered and set her feet on the wood floor. “But I think they’ll wonder where we are.” 

“I will sleep.” 

“Don’t you need help navigating? Don’t you need help getting dressed?”

“I have managed so far on my own,” Leia grumbled without heat. 

“Okay, if you need any help then just yell for me.” Jyn pulled on her outer clothes quickly and rushed down the wide steps to find the weird little kitchen that was set up. Half of it seemed to be for humans, and there was still and oddly droid-like. There were mechanics oils and food oils next to each other on the low shelves. The droids had been proud to show it off. 

“Good morning!” Threepio wandered into the kitchen, the door sliding open at his arrival. His gold eyes brightened as they focused on Jyn. “Are you making breakfast? We have been so long without a guest.”

“Do you eat breakfast?” Jyn asked before she could stop herself. 

“No, I am properly charged and my partner is out on your ship already. He will help you with the repairs?” 

“Why?” 

“You need help,” Threepio said. If he was able to shrug, then Jyn thought he might try to shrug. “My last master always told me that the galaxy needed more people who cared. That was one of the biggest problems, people do not care enough.” 

“You guys care?” Jyn poked through the refrigeration unit, and frowned. There wasn’t much to use, but she knew what she could make. 

“Of course,” Threepio wandered to her side, watching as she began to make something for breakfast. “Do you care?” 

“No.” 

“I see.” The droid waddled away, “I will go shopping today. If you make a list then I will get everything.” 

“We don’t have any money.” 

“You do not have great sums of money, Miss Jyn,” the droid corrected, “We have agreed to host you, so this is no concern.” 

“Okay,” Jyn wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “I don’t know what we’ll need though. I’m not,” she wasn’t sure what to say. 

“I have run households before,” Threepio said cheerfully, “I will work the list. Would Sonra like to come with me?” 

“She’s still in bed.” 

“I’ll go,” Jyn snapped around to see the girl wandering carefully down the staircase. She ran her hands down the wall and the banister. Each step she took was careful. She was dressed in a long white nightgown. “What time is it anyway?” 

“It is past the time for people to be awake!” The droid said cheerfully. “Which is to say it is 9:54 in the morning on Lothal time.” 

“Okay,” Leia made the last few steps and began to feel her way along the room. Jyn didn’t know if it was for dramatics, or if Leia really needed to be slow and careful. 

“Do you have a cane, Sonra?” 

 

“No,” Leia said irritably as she stumbled against a table. Threepio moved before Jyn did, and waddled over to hold out his metal hand just before Leia’s. When she touched him, she froze and frowned suspiciously. “What are you doing?” 

“Would you like me to guide you?” 

For a moment, Jyn was sure that Leia would shove the droid over. She didn’t, and took the metal hand slowly. 

“Fine,” the girl grumbled, “I don’t know my way around this place yet so I can’t make breakfast.” 

“I was going to make it,” Jyn grumbled, and Leia perked up. 

“Really?” 

“Duh.” 

“Okay,” the snappish reply would have pushed Jyn over into an argument, except that she was too tired and it was relatively too early to be bickering. 

Theepio led Leia to the table and Jyn turned back to cooking. 

“Artoo will be so pleased, it has been so long since we’ve had extended guests!”

 

#$#$#$

 

Vader was demolishing training droids by the pairs when the news reached Piett that someone had sent a piece of mail to her. It had happened before, but most of them were poisoned, boobytrapped, hate mail, or something scared Piett even more, fan-mail. This was the first thing that had been checked for everything that might be dangerous and found lacking. 

The post office had had no choice to pass it over to the navy postal service when it was finished, and when further inspection had failed to bring anything up, they had sent it to the ship. 

Now it was in his hands, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. It was small, wrapped in generic brown paper with a white string tied around it. There was no lettering, no notes, not inscription and no one from either office had recognized the metal disk he now held. 

Taking a steadying breath, he forced himself into the chamber and waited politely just inside the door. 

On a training mat with her blood red lightsaber ignited, Lady Vader sparred with two training droid. Her eyes were a solid yellow, and her expression was twisted with animalistic fury. He flinched as the blade gutted one droid and she kicked the other with such power it flew across the room and collided with the wall. There, it shattered into a dozen pieces and eventually sputtered into shut-down. 

“What is it, Piett?” Her harsh voice jolted him into action. He scurried to the edge of the mat and waited. 

“My lord,” he bowed briefly and held out the brown package. He wasn’t sure what to say. “Your mail for the day.” 

“My what?” He looked up to see the amber vanish from her eyes to be replaced by a solid blue. The bewilderment on her face was so different that what he normally saw, he stared. 

“Mail, my lord.” 

“Mail?” She repeated and stomped over to his and snatched up the brown package. She hefted it a few times, tossing it up and down with her prosthetic hand and glanced at him. “Has it been checked?” 

“Yes, sir.” She hummed to herself and carelessly ripped it open. The paper fell to the floor and revealed the thick metal disk that had baffled a dozen of the best investigators. It wasn’t a coin, but a sort of seal. A bright bronze and gold symbol was stamped on one side and an four unfamiliar letters were stamped on the other. 

Over 35 people have failed to understand what it was and who it was from. Vader stared at it for a solid second before recognition flickered over her eyes, but there was confusion too. Piett wondered why anyone would send a message that the receiver wouldn’t understand. 

“Is there anything else?” 

“Yes, a message has been sent by Lady Tarkin.” Vader growled low in her throat, his voice trailed off. 

“And?”

“She requests to have the,” knowing how intensely Lady Vader hated the word, he swallowed down slave. “The young woman sent back.” 

“Tell her that the child is no concern of hers,” Vader ordered, still turning over the disk in her hand. “And bring me the report on this package.” 

“Yes, my lord. Would you like anything else?” 

“Bring Anoon to my quarters,” she ordered. The confusion on her face was clear, and she eventually tucked the disk into a pocket. “That is all.”

“Very good,” he bowed and fled, grateful to be alive. He had been sure that she would react poorly to the package. She hadn’t even understood it. For a moment he paused outside the medical bay and tried to make his thoughts stop spinning. Once he felt balanced enough, he found the ward with the young togruta he waited until she noticed him. 

“Captain?” She looked much better. The color had returned and she looked healthy for once. He smiled in return as she pulled a patient's jacket over her shoulders. “What is it?” 

“I have been sent to retrieve you, Miss Anoon.” 

“Retrieve me?” she froze, her expression melting into suspicion. “Why?” 

“Lord Vader wishes to speak with you,” he said. For anyone else, it would have sounded like a death sentence. For Anoon, it was relief. 

“Oh,” she sighed, relaxing. “Alright. I,” she looked around, “alright. When you are ready.” She gestured at the door, and he walked through. Halfway to the Sith’s quarters, he realized that Anoon was trailing behind him.

He waited until she caught up with him and they walked the rest of the way in silence and side by side. At the entrance to the Sith’s quarters, guarded by some of the few remaining clone troopers left, he left the togruta as the door opened and left them be. 

Anoon had met with and spoken to Lady Vader on several different occasions. She understood why the galaxy was terrified of her, and why men cowered in her presence. Vader was violent and passionate. She was the boot that had crushed the last of the Zygerrians and the Hutt clans. She was the fire that had burnt the Black Sun to a smoldering crisp. 

She was, Anoon stopped as she entered into the dim quarters of the the Sith lady. She could smell food cooking and the room looked nothing like the rest of the ship. It was warmer than the rest, with mismatched furniture and decorations laying about. The lights were on low enough that it didn’t actually bother her. Humans usually kept their ships and houses too bright. 

“Hello?” She called from just inside the entrance chamber.

“The kitchen,” Vader answered, and Anoon obeyed. She inched in to find the Sith standing over a stove and cooking. It was such a bizarre thing to see, that Anoon only stared. The skillet in front of the woman was bubbling with oil and some meat. A teapot sat on the work-table and and a half empty teacup sat next to it. Instead of being dressed in her black armor or heavy robes, like she was used to seeing the woman in, Vader wore a plain pair of black slacks and dark blue shirt that had no frills or embellishments. Her hair was tied back, oil and dirt still coated whole sections of it. She looked, well she looked dirty and tired. Like she needed a few days at a personalized spa or a bath. Lady Tarkin had been fond of spa visits and endless pampering from everyone. She would have never been caught dead with oil in her hair, dirt under her nails, or smelling like she’d just sweat through a set of workout clothes. Vader didn’t seem to notice or didn’t care. 

“Lady.”

“You may call me Vader,” the woman said without turning. “If you would like some tea then there is a cup on the counter to your right.” Anoon glanced over and noticed at the cups didn’t match. 

“Vader, ma’am, sir.” she began and paused. “What?”

“Sit down before you fall over, child.”

Anoon obeyed with a thump and swallowed hard as Vader flipped several pieces of meat out of the skillet and into another pan. She watched the Sith for a moment before leaning over just enough to grab the tea cup and pour a hefty amount in. It was spicy and delicious and Anoon all but sighed with relief to taste a tea that wasn’t the usual found in the core. With Vader turned from her, she was free to stare at the kitchen and then out the door into the living space. 

It wasn’t Imperial style at all. 

Lady Tarkin had loved minimalism. 

Lady Vader seemed to be a bit of a packrat. 

“I can sense your confusion,” Vader intoned and Anoon shivered. 

She opened her mouth to speak. Instead of anything politely vague or evasive, what came out instead was, “you stabbed me.” 

“Yes,” since Vader wasn’t insulted by the remark, Anoon pushed on. 

“Why?” 

“Your transmitter is now gone.” The words, so simply spoken, hit Anoon on the head enough that she clutched her tea-cup even harder to keep it attached to her body 

“What?” The desperate whisper was heard despite the fact that it was nearly a soundless breath. 

“Your transmitter is gone,” Vader repeated, “lightsabers have many functions.” 

“When you stabbed me,” her hand crept to the slowly healing wound on her shoulder.

“I destroyed the transmitter. Tarkin would have activated it anyway. She uses her slaves to try and assassinate me.” 

“I.” 

“It’s clever too,” Vader continued as if Anoon wasn’t there. “To send a slave, activate the transmitter. The signal would confuse any transmitters in the same space at such a distance.”

“Oh,” sudden realization stole over Anoon as Vader turned a bit, with an almost smile. 

“I stabbed mine years ago. Her plan would work if she had all the pieces.” Anoon wasn’t sure she was capable of understanding what was going on. But she rallied the best she could. 

“Are you going to kill me?” She poured herself another cup of tea and trembled. Vader finished whatever she was doing at the stave and turned around. 

“Would I have gone through the effort of saving your life just to kill you?” 

“I don’t know,” Anoon admitted as Vader set the metal pan onto the table and two bowls floated over from a shelf. “You staked Jabba the Hutt out in the desert to die..”

“I did,” the woman agreed. From this close of a distance she could see the faint scars and the not-so-faint scars that covered Vader’s arms and face. “It was an entertaining couple of days.”

“Vader,” Anoon watched the woman spoon up some food into the bowls. The pan floated back to the stove. “Why am I here? What is going to happen? I mean.” 

“You are going to eat,” Vader ordered the harshness of her face seem to freeze and she took a shallow breath. “I will be sending you to my brother.” 

A million and one horrors raced through her mind, Anoon foze even as the Sith began to mix her food around vigorously. Vader finally looked up. 

“He runs a home where you can be rehabilitated and then re-enter society as a functional person.” 

“I’m not going back?” 

“No,” Vader took a bite of her food, “eat. You’re too skinny as it is.” 

‘But my masters.” Anoon protested and Vader sat up straight. Her glower was back in full force and she slapped the table. 

“You have no master!” The woman thundered. “You are free,” her voice dipped into depressed silence and she repeated herself again, with much less venom and anger. “You are free. My brother will take care of you until you think you are ready.” 

“But what will I do?” 

“What did you do before.” Before what? That Vader didn’t need to elaborate on. 

“I was just a little girl when the raid happened,” she poked at her food for a moment. “I was little and my mom died. I was taken and then.” She closed her eyes and felt like crying. “How come you’re doing this?” She looked at Vader, who didn’t look up. Her broad shoulders were tight, and she sounded tense when she answered. 

“Because I can.”


	8. Metal Coffin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piett tries to entertain Anoon for an evening. Lady Vader gets a new piece of information. Luke and Cassian make plans.

Lady Vader was something of a galactic curiosity. A general to be feared, a Sith to be worshiped, a mother to be pitied, and a woman to be respected. The duality of her positions meant that if the conversation ever went dry in the officer's lounge, there was always Lady Vader to discuss. 

Then again, discussing the woman could be hazardous to your health. Piett had long-since learned to keep his head down when the conversation turned Sith-ward.

“Piett!” Ozzel slapped him on the shoulder, spilling his drink across the table. Piett grimaced and cleaned it up with a nearby towel as the man sat himself down. “What’s the news?” 

“The news?” 

“Exactly? What did the Lady get in the mail? Someone sent her something. It’s all anyone can talk about!”

The other officers were eavesdropping when they should have known better. Piett cleared his throat. “I do not believe that it would be polite or conducive to my health to discuss any of Lady Vader’s private matters.” 

“Really? She pays attention to you. You delivered her mails. What was it?” 

“With all due respect, Admiral, none of your business.” 

Ozzels ugly expression was just as threatening as it could have been. It warned him that his life was about to be difficult. Before the man could speak, his comm chimed. He pulled it out and cursed. “Piett, if you can’t learn to play nice with others, then you’ll never make it far in this Navy.” The man walked off, and Piett left the officers club as quickly as he could to avoid any further trouble. Halfway down the corridor, he stopped just as a stormtrooper stepped from the shadows. Despite the armor that matched the hundreds of others, Piett knew that this wasn’t a normal trooper. They were too quiet, and they radiated an air of danger.

“Good choice,” they said. Piett swallowed hard. 

“I am only doing what is polite and right.” 

“More than most,” the trooper stared at him and gestured at the waiting turbolift. “Move along.” 

Piett nodded, not even bother to tell the man that Piett was his superior and ought to have been properly respected. Being permitted to move around on the ship by a simple trooper was ridiculous. Still, he knew which troopers Vader favored, and that was definitely one of them. He made his way back to his quarters, mopping nervous sweat off his brow. 

His stomach nearly bottomed out when he entered and saw Anoon waiting in his room, staring curiously at his pin-up poster of a star destroyer. 

“Miss,” he paused and beat out a nervous tempo on his leg, “what can I do to help you?” 

“She kicked me out of her rooms for the night,” Anoon answered, finally tearing her gaze from the poster. “She told me to go to my own.” 

“Why aren’t you there?” 

She shrugged, “it’s lonely in there. It’s too quiet and I can. I can hear them talking. The memories are too loud.” 

“Oh,” Piett rocked back to the door, “excuse me.” He made a hasty retreat to a nearby captain’s room, knocking hastily. She opened after a moment, wearing a bright green clay mask over her face. 

“What is it?” IN the room beyond he could see several other women wearing identical masks and drinking bright red wine. 

“Excuse me for interrupting,” Piett apologized, “but I have a young woman in my room who has come, and I need to entertain her for a little bit. Do you have any suggestions.”

“How did you get a young woman to your rooms?” The captain leaned against the wall, sipping her wine. 

“She came of her own will, and I only want to make her comfortable.” 

“Let me see,” the captain brushed past him, down the hall and into his room. Anoon had started rifling through his datapads and was reading the technical reports with apparent interest. 

“Hello.” 

“Hi,” the woman waved, a cluster of the women followed, “what are you doing here?” 

“I,” Anoon looked to Piett, who smiled encouragingly, “I am here because I know him. I only know him on this ship.” 

“You can come join us.” Captain Tillerman offered, “we’re drinking and doing our nails. Plus facemasks.” 

“I did not think the Empire allowed this?” 

“We’re off-shift, in hyperspace, and in our own quarters. It doesn’t much matter right now. Do you drink?” 

“No.” 

“Do you want something to drink. Piett here can get you some juice if you like.” Desperate to get out of the situation, Piett nodded enthusiastically. 

“I am fine.” Anoon looked down at her datapad. “I don’t need anything.” 

“Then what brings you down here?” Anoon shrugged, Piett watched the captain nod slowly. 

“Well, if you don’t want to talk, I do. I’ve got the best gossip on the ship. Girls,” she moved out of the way, and Piett found his small single officers cabin flooded by lady officers and troopers. He retreated gratefully to fetch refreshments. They were gone by the time he’d returned, though Anoon was visibly more relaxed. He received a chorus of appreciation as he set the drinks down and then a cheer of excitement when he produced a package of cookies. 

“Where did you get that?” Tillerman demanded, snagging herself a handful before passing it on. 

“The stock-room droid was very amenable,” Piett answered, taking his own glass and stiffly taking a seat on his bed. Tillerman lounged over most of it, and he knew he’d have to sleep in a pile of cookie crumbs. 

“Droids on this ship are getting weird,” Tillerman said, “I have a mouse droid that wouldn’t go away unless I pet it.” 

“Did you?” Anoon asked, and Tillerman nodded. 

“What else can I do? They’re so small, and it was making all these little beeping noises.” 

“Oh my god,” another woman piped up, eyeing the cookie container hungrily. “I’ve got a mouse droid that doesn’t leave my quarters.” 

“It doesn’t,” her roommate agreed, “it just sits in our room and buzzes around. I think it sometimes leaves for maintenance, but it’s always the same droid.”

“How can you tell?”

“When you’ve been around it as often as I have, you get a sense of these things.” Anoon smiled faintly and shook her head. 

“Is it a pet?” 

“I guess it is now.” The woman shrugged, draining the last of her juice. “Top off?” She waved it Piett’s direction. He obliged, sighing. “So, rumor has it that you’ve been spending more and more time around Lady Vader.” 

“I do my duty,” Piett answered, “no more and no less.”

“’Cept she’s totally paying attention to you,” Tillerman nodded at Anoon, “didn’t she stab you?” 

“Yes,” the pale orange hand moved to touch the fading scar. Anoon smiled, much to the confusion of the assembled officers. “It hurt a lot.” 

“A lightsaber is a crazy weapon when you think about it.” Someone else piped up. “You have around a stick of light, that can cut through anything and anyone, then you have to have the reflexes of a magic person to use it effectively. It’s like bringing a knife to a blaster duel. I’ve seen her redirect tank blasts with that thing. Tell you what, it’s the craziest weapon in the galaxy. Anoon, what’s your favorite weapon?” 

“I’ve never had one,” the togruta admitted. 

“That’s not acceptable; we’ll have to find you one. Then teach you how to punch a man so hard his nuts fall off.” Piett wondered idly what Lady Vader was doing and hoped she was having a more enjoyable evening than he was. 

#$#$#$#

The disk sat on the worktable, jumbled in with the rest of the junk and pieces of machinery. It gleamed under the low light, oozing mystery. Nothing that Vader had done to it had revealed its secrets. The lettering hadn’t made sense, the imagery was confusing, and it was a plain metal disc that could have been fashioned on one of hundreds of planets. 

Nothing about it was remarkable, except the mystery that surrounded it. It wasn’t a relic, an antique, or a vintage curiosity. A woman with unremarkable, untraceable features and a humanoid had dropped it off at the post office. She’d given no name and paid cash with credits that had been exchanged at the bank from a credit chip that any major credit company offered. The credit account belonged to a Illio Fremire, who had reported his missing credit chip just a few minutes after cash had been withdrawn from his account. Aside from reckless spending, there was nothing remarkable about Illio Fremire’s account or his person. 

Vader considered the length of the mystery woman had gone to mailing her something. She hefted her hammer and began to pound on the sheet-metal sitting atop her anvil. 

The packaging material had been bought from a stationery shop a few blocks away from the post office. The string tied around was from the same shop. They had worn gloves, so there was no DNA to trace. Vader had a feeling that if they did get DNA, they still wouldn’t have been able to trace it. The person it belonged to might not even legally exist. 

It seemed that no matter how she fought to plug the cracks and bring a sense of order to the galaxy; there were people slipping through. Trying to clean up the mess of the Republic was nearly impossible. Made worse by her master’s inaction and wish to languish in the luxuries and decadence of his position. He wanted to wallow in his darkness and scheme. Cosmetically ruling the galaxy while Vader enforced it. She took her fury out on the metal, pounding harder. 

Then there was Tarkin’s scheming, Krennic and his utterly useless waste of money and material project of a Death Star. Neither of them had even noticed the enormously gaping weak-spot that they were willingly and enthusiastically building into their pet project. She’d only needed a few hours to track the source of such idiocy to its source. 

If Galen Erso wanted to get his revenge on Krennic; then Vader wouldn’t interfere. 

Vader paused in her work, setting a hand on her stomach and staggered away from her work, cursing. Blinding, white-hot pain laced up and down her torso. Feeling as if her stomach was twisting in and out of her body, breaking down into tiny pieces. The only thing to mitigate the pain was to breathe slowly, the same thing she’d learned from the Lamaze pamphlets Padem had slipped her. 

When she came to the world around her, collapsed against the only chair in the room and panting heavily; her comm unit was buzzing. 

“What?” Vader snarled, clearly terrifying the person on the other end. She tried to stand, her body did not cooperate. 

“My lady,” their voice shook. She dug into the fear and terror to help her stand, allowing the darkness to fuel her. “We’ve received a transmission from a bounty hunter.” They hesitated, “they claim to have located your son.”   
Vader paused and blinked a few times. “Did they give you coordinates?” 

“Yes, my lady.”

“Very well, inform Ozzel to drop out of hyperspace and make for those coordinates. Have my shuttle readied.”

“Yes, milady.” 

In the privacy of her quarters, she considered the likelihood that the criminals had found her son. If they had and located her daughter, they would be rich beyond their wildest dreams. To bring her false hope was a death sentence.

Four hours later, approaching a landing pad on a planet whose name no one could pronounce, the Sith watched her troopers spread out to cover every nook and cranny of the spaceport. The local pilots and port-master were corralled into a room to keep them from interfering. For an hour Vader waited, arms crossed and eyes narrowed at the horizon. 

Luke, her son, the first child that Kenobi had stolen from her. Emerged into the world of fire and smoke, screaming and crying. His first baby blanket probably fashioned from her abandoned cloak. Taken while his mother was left to die. She lifted her head as the ship appeared and began its unsteady approach. The anticipation roiled around the landing pad. Vader tapped her foot impatiently as the force signature of the person in the ship finally flared. She recognized it a moment later. 

“Lying bastards!” The troopers behind her ducked for cover when she lifted her hand and grabbed the ship with the force; yanking it down to crash against the landing pad. Dust, smoke, and rubble billowed about. Seething, she wretched the newly twisted boarding ramp off and hurled it away. It landed a few hundred meters away with screeching crash. 

Blaster bolts spat out from the smokey entrance, returned with a combination of the suddenly ignited red lightsaber, and the force. Vader waded into the fire, saber flashing and stormed the ship. The troopers held still, listening to the screaming and shouting and the tear of metal that echoed out the entrance. 

“So,” one shifted a bit, turning to his partner, “not her son?” 

“Nope.” 

Vader emerged, blood splattered across her boots, right shoulder, and her metal fist which was wrapped around a long coffin-looking crate. She dragged it out of the ship and dumped it down. Muffled shouting could be heard from the inside. With a careless gesture, the top popped off, and a young man with black hair, wearing orange and yellow sat up, heaving for air. 

“Ezra Bridger?” She crossed her arms, looking unimpressed as the rebel Jedi swayed. “You.” She jumped back a foot as Ezra flopped over the edge of his previous prison and vomited. “What did they drug you with?” Ezra was too busy hurling the contents of his stomach to answer. “Medic,” she waved and one detached themselves from the wall of troopers. 

Ezra managed to right himself and scooted backward until he was leaning against the edge, breathing heavily. “Hi,” he croaked, blearily looking at Vader and then at the medic who knelt beside him. “We’ve got stop meeting like this.” 

“Agreed,” her temper had been spent on the criminals. It was difficult to hate Bridger, despite his disappointing affiliation. He was an easy going, if sarcastic and disrespectful, teenager. He was the same age that her son should be, and was powerful. Since he’d emerged onto the rebel scene, he’d been kidnapped a dozen times by pirates and smugglers wanting to cash in on the enormous bounty Vader offered for her children. 

“Can someone stamp my frequent kidnapping card please?” Ezra asked. 

“Check him for more injuries,” Vader ordered the medic, “I sense more pain than can be explained by a rough handling.” 

“I’m fine!” He smacked the medic’s hands away, glaring at the Sith. “Just threw up my stomach.” The medic looked to Vader for direction. 

“Bridger, if I have to do this,” she clenched her metal fist emphatically. Bright violet eyes were drawn to the blood still dripping off it. “You will regret it.” 

“I’m fine! Seriously!” 

“Bridger!” 

“WHAT?” 

Vader took a threatening step forward, and Ezra scoffed. 

“Fine,” the rebel relented sulkily, “my left ankle and my ribs.”

“There,” Vader gestured for the medic to follow through. Her voice was silky, “was that so difficult?” 

“Why do you have to complicate everything?” 

“That’s my job,” Vader hooked her lightsaber back onto her belt. “Where is your saber?” Ezra stared at her and shrugged wordlessly. He didn’t get the reaction he wanted. Vader rolled her eyes. “Your master is going to be very concerned when he finds your saber, not you.” 

“I think he’s going to be worried when he watched my public execution on the holo.” 

“Don’t be absurd, Bridger. You’re not set for a public execution. I believe the Grand Inquisitor would pay dearly to get a hold of you.” 

“How is he doing?” Ezra spat on to the duracreet beneath them. “Still down?” 

“Recovering,” Vader answered, she was almost amused. “Slowly,” Ezra smirked. “You are a good duelist for someone who is trained by a half-trained padawan turned drunkard.” 

“Kanan doesn’t drink,” Ezra shook his head and yelped when the medic pressed too hard on his ribs. “Yeah, there are bones down there. Want to keep looking I’ll make you eat the ones in my fist.” 

“Well!” The medic leaned away, glancing at the Sith. “Sir!” 

“Calm down, Bridger,” Vader ordered, rolling her shoulders and flicking her wrist to dislodge some of the blood. “Haven’t you been taught the basics of dealing with medics or manners?” 

“Have you?” Startled and expecting any second for Bridger to be struck down, the medic glanced between them. Vader seemed amused though. 

“What is your diagnosis?” 

“Erm, dehydrated, bruised ribs and a sprained ankle, possibly a broken bone. He’ll recover quickly enough.”

Vader’s cool blue eyes swept over the rebel; he watched her warily. He’d learned after the first few times that his best bet of escape was after she’d set him the custody of others. Being dragged through the mud was never fun. Nor was being trussed up and set atop of an eopie saddle being led around by someone else. He’d be able to walk under his own power if he was agreeable. “You’ve put on weight.” 

Ezra scratched his ear, “I guess.” He and the medic exchanged a glance and looked away. “HEY!” His discomfort turned to shock when Vader grabbed the collar of his jump-suit and yanked him out of the metal coffin. His attempt to stand on his own, left his reeling with pain and leaning against the Sith for support. Vader’s flesh and blood hand settled into the same one that medics used when carrying injured soldiers off the battlefield. His vision swam, and he held onto the arm supporting him. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was better than being surrounded by metal. Despite the heavy armor she wore, Vader wasn’t exactly uncomfortable to be hugging. She was warmer than the coffin, and she was breathing. He’d been locked in the thing for three days and would be embarrassed later when he realized that he was actually holding onto the Sith. “Ow.”

“Be quiet, Bridger,” Vader adjusted her grip, “Captain, have the men return to the shuttle.” Ezra just managed to keep himself from whimpering as Vader hauled him across the landing pad to her ship. 

“You don’t have to carry me,” he rasped, limping along with her impossibly long stride. Her boots nearly stomped his toes a few times. 

“You’ve escaped too many times, Bridger. This is my insurance.” 

“I didn’t think insurance agencies even met with you,” Ezra joked, “except maybe a life insurance agency, cause then they’d never have to cough up. Like, you can’t get insurance for any of your starfighters can you?” 

Vader glanced down at him; he grinned cheekily up, only to be cut off when she squeezed his aching torso.

“Quiet,” Vader ordered, without the fury or annoyance she might have shown any other rebel. “I’d like to see you escape this time.” 

#$#$#$

Cassian was expecting that Luke would be jumpy, frantic, and nervous. He had expected Luke to ask a million questions and demand answers. What he didn’t expect was to have Luke turn eerily calm and remain nonverbal and near catatonic. It unnerved the doctor visibly, who got more and more and more uncomfortable as the check-up went on. 

“That’s not normal,” Dr. Pierce hissed to Cassian, dragging him into the hallway and nodding at Luke who was sitting upright in his hospital bed and examining the IV set into his hand. 

“What’s not normal?” 

“He didn’t even flinch! He went in terrified out of his mind, and now he’s just…fine? I don’t think he’s fine, but he looks fine.” 

“What’s wrong with him?” 

“Acute and prolonged dehydration, and it’s obvious he’s been living pretty leanly for a long time. He needs to get to a healthy weight. I mean a healthy weight, at his age he needs to be at about 120 or 27, maybe a bit over. He’s at 112.” 

“That’s bad, right?” Cassian asked. Luke was a skinny kid, but he didn’t look starving. 

“It’s not good,” Dr. Pierce said, “not good at all. Anyway, he needs more water, and he needs more food. I’ll write up a diet plan. Also, he is too calm for someone who was terrified at the idea of visiting a doctor not too long ago. I honestly can’t tell if he’s terrified out of his mind or not.” 

“I’ll talk to him,” Cassian promised.

“We also have to discuss vaccines. He’s behind on a few.” Pierce shook his head, “please go talk to him. He’s being emotionless, and that’s terrifying.” 

“I got it,” Cassian patted the doctor on the back and let himself into Luke’s room. The Jedi didn’t stir until Cassian was sitting on the end of his bed. “Bambi?” 

“Yes?” The blond looked up; the blank expression chilled Cassian to his core. It was unnatural for anyone to looked so detached and calm. 

“Are you afraid of the doctor?” 

“The,” Luke shook his head, “I fear nothing. Fear is a gateway to the dark side.” 

“This is your first time in a clinic, Luke. Being nervous is perfectly normal.” 

“I am not afraid.”

“Luke, you’re scaring the doctor.’

“I am?” The mask cracked. Luke blinked a few times. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.” A reaction so automatic that raised the hair on the back of the spy’s neck. Cassian rolled his neck and nodded. 

“It’s okay, Bambi. Dr. Pierece is made of stern stuff, but if you want to keep your cover intact, you’ve got to react. If you’re nervous, act nervous. If you’re worried, act worried. Trust me; nothing will make you look so different than everyone else than if you act as if nothing is wrong.”

“My master told me to hold myself above the petty worries of the galaxy.’ 

“The petty worries of the galaxy? That’s what he said?” 

“Yes, well. He meant that I shouldn’t be less than,” Luke glanced around and then gestured to himself. Cassian heard the unspoken “Jedi.” “I am supposed to be.”

“Bambi, listen. To keep you safe you have to react. You have to have your emotions. You cried at the criminal den, didn’t you?” 

“I guess.”

“Why?” 

“It was a moment of weakness. I wasn’t supposed to. I shouldn’t have.” 

“You were afraid, and you were in pain. Crying is a normal reaction, plus, you’ve been out of your depth for a couple of days now. I think you’re entitled to some crying.” 

“I’m not supposed to,” Luke protested, “I’m not supposed to cry or anything. I’m supposed to let my feelings go. That’s what I always have done.” 

“Really?” Cassian stared hard at the blond. Who ducked his head and shook it, “see.”

“I don’t know how to be normal,” Luke muttered, the emotionless façade he’d used was gone completely. He sounded bitter and hurt. Cassian set a hand on his knee. “I don’t want to scare the doctor and if trying to do what my master told me to do, gets me captured by the Imperials; then I sure don’t know what to do.” 

“That’s okay, you’re hardly the first one,” the spy watched as Luke brought his knees to his chest and rested his head on them, sighing deeply. “Luke, we can help you with that.” He scooted down the bed until he was sitting beside Luke, and slung an arm over the thin shoulders. “Listen, we can find information to help you. You don’t have to be normal; you just have to be less obvious. I bet we can find someone here with information.” 

“Why would we find information like that in a clinic?” 

“Because it’s called emotional health,” Cassian was never more grateful of the pamphlets he’d come across once in a library he was hiding in to get away from the stormtroopers hunting him. They were the only thing he was able to read without a library card. “Being able to acknowledge and express your emotions in a healthy way. Like if you're jealous, you don’t take it out on someone who doesn’t deserve it. If you’re angry, you don’t lash out.” 

“I don’t get angry.” Cassian bit his lip at Luke’s sudden dismissal. 

“Everyone get’s angry, Luke. You get mad too, and I sure get angry. Part of the thing is to identify your emotions too.” 

“I don’t get angry,” Luke repeated, “I don’t.” 

“Okay,” Cassian sighed, “sure.” Why hadn’t Tang ordered him to bring Luke back to the rebellion? He could have delivered Luke to his Jedi teacher by now. He could have washed his hands of the emotionally stunted, unbearably naïve teenager already. What sort of politics was going on if he was keeping the Jedi from the rebellion? “Luke, you got upset. You cried, and I’ve seen you.”

“Yeah, so?” 

Cassian didn’t think he had enough money to afford a psychologist for Luke. He wasn’t sure he had the patience for it. If he was going to be living with Luke long term, then they had to figure something out. “As soon as you’re cleared by the doc, we’re going to find a place to hunker down. We’ll figure this out later.”

“Am I really sick?”

“Sick?” 

“Yeah, am I sick?” 

“You need water and food. Dr. Pierce said you’re underweight.” Luke stared out the window at the alleyway beneath it. “Bambi.” 

“I do feel better,” Luke admitted. 

“He wants to keep you were for a little bit longer. A day or two. As soon as you’ve got a clean bill of health, we’re headed out of here, alright?” 

“Where are we going?” 

“Not sure, yet.” Cassian felt his heart jack-rabbit nearly out of his chest when Luke leaned against him. It had been a long time since anyone had been willing to be close to him. He didn’t pull away though but leaned into the hug as if the blond in the hospital gown and hooked to the IV was his life-line.


	9. Getting Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few people talk. Not much else happens

Ezra Bridger glanced at the training saber in his hands, and then up at Lady Vader. She loomed, as she always did, in the distance. Her own saber clipped to her belt as she moved through from stretches. They were the same exact sort to Kannan had him do. 

“Come along, Bridger,” Vader called.

“I don’t want to learn anything from you,” Ezra answered. Vader frowned, the expression just as terrifying as it was every time.

“I didn’t ask what you wanted, Bridger,” she strolled across the training mat. “Where have you progressed in your training?”

“Um,” he shuffled his feet, hating how every interaction with Vader made him feel less like a rebel agent and more like one of the old padawans. He hadn’t been to school for a while, but each time had to deal with Vader demanding updates on his training it reminded him of talking in front of a teacher. All of it was made worse by the fact that Vader didn’t seem to acknowledge him as a threat. She didn’t seem to register that he could be dangerous. “Places?”

She wasn’t impressed. “Come, ignite your saber.” 

“I’m still injured,” Ezra tried for, leaning to one side to affect a limp.

“You were in a healing trance for three days.” During which Kanan had probably had a full-blown panic attack. “You’re healed.” 

“I don’t want to fight you.” He brought the saber up in an instant as Vader lunged for him, her own saber glowing a furious red. They clashed in a terrifying heartbeat, and she scoffed. 

“Steady your ground. Move your feet further apart to give you more balance and power for a retaliatory strike.” 

“What?” He gasped wildly, staring at the hissing and spitting sparks their blades kicked up. “What?” He lightsaber flickered off as Vader managed to knock him to the ground with an effortless push. “Hey!” 

“Widen your stance,” she said, “again.” She stalked around the training mat as Ezra picked himself up, muttering under his breath. 

For the next few hours, he spent dueling Vader, and getting knocked over and kicked about as he tried to prove that Kanan hadn’t wasted his time and that he could fight just as well as Vader. Halfway through she switched from open sparring to running through the katas. Ezra refused to be embarrassed about how many time she’s corrected his stance. When she finally did call a break, he was sweating and exhausted. He didn’t dare fall over onto the training mat the way he might have if it was just Kanan and him.

His teacher brought him a cold bottle of water and a snack after an intense training session. Usually accompanied by a few fatherly bits of advice that Ezra didn’t really need. Sometimes Hera would come out to watch or help. Sabine too, when she wasn’t repainting her hair or room. 

“You’re progressing,” Vader told him, summoned his training saber to her hand. “Though I don’t understand how you’ve managed to fight the Grand Inquisitor to a standstill as well as injure him.” 

“Maybe he’s not as good as you think he is?” Ezra snapped, trying to rub away the bruising on his shoulder. Vader hadn’t been rough with him, but she hadn’t been gentle. He glanced up as she snorted. 

“He is as good as I think,” Vader told him, turning her head as the door opened and a scrawny officer came through. As soon as Vader turned her back to him, he sat down with a thump and mopped his forehead with his sleeves. 

Piett had difficulty focusing on Lady Vader when the strange boy sitting on the training mat seemed so out of place and bizarre. He was young, about 15, with black hair and dark skin, wearing an odd combination of medical pants and some of the robes the likes of which Lady Vader wore. He didn’t seem like an inquisitor, but Piett wasn’t familiar enough with those to be positive. 

“Piett,” he jerked his eyes back to the Sith. She didn’t seem disapproving. Today might be one of the rare days she was in an almost acceptable mood. “If you are finished staring?”

“Apologies, milord,” he felt his face flush. She handed over the datapad. 

“Bridger is a rebel,” he glanced over at the teenager, who was now flopped over one of the exercise bars. “Have a triple security team come retrieve him and have a prisoner transport prepared.” 

“A triple security team?” 

“Bridger is a dangerous rebel,” she told him, “force sensitive and experienced with escaping custody. A single security team may not stop him, but three will certainly slow him down.” 

“A dangerous rebel, my lord. Perhaps he should be sedated as well?” Vader’s expression, inexplicably hardened. 

“That will not be necessary, Piett.” She turned, “BRIDGER!” 

“WHAT?” He swallowed, shocked at the insolent tone the boy used. Bridger seemed to realize it as well because he sat up very slowly and watched Vader with a cautious expression. Vader smirked to herself and gestured him closer. With obvious reluctance, he obeyed. “Yes,” he asked with the resentment that only teenagers could manage. His eyes flickered from Vader to Piett. 

“If you can manage to not destroy my training room, I will graciously not break one of your limbs to hinder your escape.” Bridger’s face drained, he took a step back, and Vader seized his shirt to drag him forward. 

“Hey! I haven’t broken anything! I’m going to point out that I really haven’t done anything while.” 

She pointed, “shower is through there. If you behave, I may let you eat.” 

“Erm,” he looked down, obviously calculated how high above the ground she was holding him without apparent difficulty. “Sure. No escape attempts right now. I promise.” 

“Very well,” she lowered him to the ground and gave him a condescending pat on his head. “Go.” He glowered but obeyed, and Piett wondered if it was rude to have his brain drain through his ears. None of this made sense, and he wasn’t expecting Lady Vader to be anything besides violently hostile to her prisoner. When he was gone, she returned her attention to Piett. “What else requires my attention?” 

“There is very little, my lord,” he had only come to bring a few reports. “I apologize for interrupting.” 

“It is not trouble,” she seemed to scan him with the dark powers she was renowned for. As if trying to gauge what he was doing and what he wanted. There was something deeply unsettling in the feeling of having his soul scanned. “I have received an interesting report from my Commander, Captain.” He had an unhappy feeling it was about him. “Of an interaction with Admiral Ozzel.” 

“I apologize,” the words tripped out of his mouth in his haste to claim innocence. “If I spoke out of line and insulted.” 

“Be quiet,” the words had him clamping his mouth shut. Vader set her hands on her hips, frowning deeply. “Your discretion is appreciated.” 

“Ah,” his mind flashed to the trooper who had spoken to him after the incident. The orange pauldron should have made Commander Cody obvious, except that Piett had ignored the sign of the clone. “I was only doing my duty, sir.” 

“It is still appreciated,” Vader replied coldly, “and will continue to be appreciated?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Hmm,” she leaned back, hooking her thumbs in her belt as she examined him. Her usual armor had been forsaken for training clothes. Even without the armor her presences of imposing and terrifying, nothing could have softened Lady Vader. Piett swallowed and looked down at his boots.

#$#$#$

Du hadn’t expected the bill to come from the clinic so quickly and didn’t mind the walk down to it to pay. Hoping to find the blond along the way and get a chance to speak with him. She did find him, after settling her bill with Dr. Pierce, sitting in the plaza behind the clinic and staring up at the tree that grew in the middle. He was all but drowning in a heavy jacket that had to have been his brothers. 

“What kind of tree is this?” He asked, and Du wondered how he’d known she was there. 

“It’s called a money tree,” she said, stepping closer. “It’s supposed to bring good luck to the patients of the hospital. Don looked around, smiling faintly. “Have you ever seen one before?”

“You know the answer to that,” he said softly, and she felt confident enough to approach. “Can I help you, Du?” 

“No,” she took a seat beside him, staring up at the bright green leaves. “So who have you met?” 

“Met?” 

“You told me that I was the third person you’d ever met. Who have you met so far?” 

“The doctor,” Don said after a long moment. “I thought doctors were supposed to be more frightening. My master always said that they were.”

“He’s wrong.” 

“I think Dr. Pierce is a fine person,” Don fiddled with the ends of his jacket. “I met the nurses. There were two of them. A human man with dark hair. He smiles a lot, and he has a very loud laugh,” he clarified as if it was important. Du wanted to smile but kept her face clear. “I like it though. I like when people laugh, it always makes everything brighter.” 

“Does he laugh at jokes?” 

“His, erm, they’re mostly those old puns. I think most everyone thinks they’re funny, but I don’t understand it. Like when he made one word mean another word or mixed up his phrases. I don’t get the jokes, but I like the laugh.” 

“Sometimes that’s enough,” Du watched the human pick at his clothes for a moment longer. “Anyone else?” 

“Yes, there’s Dr. Dimmie. He’s from Naboo, and he likes his caf very dark. He had four children, two of them are twins which are apparently common on Naboo. He has five brothers; they are all doctors too. They like being doctors. His one sister is the sitting queen of Naboo. She’s only about 16. He says that she’s the smartest one in the family. I don’t know much about queens or doctors, but it sounds important.” 

“You don’t know anything about queens?” 

“I,” Don thought for a moment, “know the names of all the Queens and Kings of Naboo for the last five centuries. I know the names of the Queen Mother’s of Hapes. I know what a queen does, who helps her, and the sort of politics they need to navigate.” 

“Why?” 

“My master thought it would be important,” Don glanced at her, “don’t you know?” 

“Not really,” Du considered the boy, “my master thought that I was most useful when I was stupid and out of the way.” 

“Oh,” Don looked at her, confused and wary. “Why?” 

“He owned me,” Du shrugged, “he could do what he wanted.” 

 

“Owned you?” 

“Yes,” she stared at her fingertips. “What about your brother, Tom?” 

“I just met him. I think he is,” Don struggled for words, “sad, but he is nice. I like how he helps me when I’m confused, and he didn’t get upset when I got sick. Well, he was upset, but not at me. He got upset that I was sick, but not that I had gotten sick. Like he was worried about me. I think that he was worried about me. I never got sick before that I actually remember. I think it’s happened.” 

“He was worried for you and about you. Is that what you’re trying to wrap your head around?” 

“Yes?” 

“Brothers are like that, or so I’ve heard. I’ve never had brothers of my own.” 

“Huh, I thought he was being odd. I try,” Don tried and failed to look calmed. His annoyance was clear to anyone looking. “I don’t understand.” 

“Understand what?” 

“Anything!” He burrowed further into his coat and gestured at the mural on the other end of the plaza, “what is that supposed to represent?”

“Oh,” Du stared at the mural, wondering how anyone could fail to understand. “That’s Lady Vader.” Don jerked, glancing from the mural and then to her. The woman had been painted in an abstract way, showing her silhouette rather than details. Tall black block and rectangles, with an oval head. A jagged red lightning bolt across her stomach, two amber circles as eyes, and a staff of red in one rectangular hand. On the other end of the wall were the blocky and somewhat disfigured shapes of Hutts, zygerrians, and a few other species known for slave trading. 

“Why is she on the wall?” 

“She’s the protector.” Du wondered which rock the kid was hiding under to miss this. “Well, that’s what we ex-slaves call her. I was rescued on one of her anti-slavery raids. I don’t know who painted this, but it always reminds me that there is someone taking care of us.”

“Um,” Don looked confused and freaked out. The expression wasn’t that odd on his face, since he seemed to wear it all of the time. “So….how do. Wait a moment. I’m confused.” 

“Confused about what?” 

“This is….she freed all of the slaves?” 

“Most of them, yeah.”

“But…I thought she was an evil Sith.” 

“Sith is her religion, I think. Um.” Du wasn’t sure. 

“I knew that she got rid of the Hutts and the other people, but freeing the slaves and then? I’m confused. I thought she hated everyone.” 

“I don’t know if she hates everyone. I know she hates a lot of her officers, but everyone knows that. Nah, she freed a lot of the slaves. It was amazing. I remember,” Du stared up at the mural. “I remember when the stories started filtering back that someone was raiding the ships, the stocks, and prisons. I remember,” she took a deep breath. “It was the most painful thing. To sit there in the dark and wait. I waited so long; we weren’t even sure if we’d survive. They usually kill slaves before we have the chance to escape. They’d rather we’d be dead.” She looked down to see his face, twisted into shock and absolutely overwhelmed with astonishment. “Kid.” 

“I’m sorry,” Don stared at her, unsure what to do. His hands fluttered about as if didn’t know what to do with them, where to place them until they settled on his knees. “I’m sorry that that happened. I’m sorry that you were stuck like there, there in that awful place. I wish I could have done something.” 

“You were a little kid,” Du pointed out, “there wasn’t much you could have done.” 

“I could have done something! I should have done something.” 

“It took a Sith Lady with an entire Empire at her disposal to do that job!” Du snapped, angry with her confusion. “What could some kid do?” 

“I don’t!” Don stood up and walked away a few paces, tucking his arms behind his back in a gesture that looked too old for him to be using. Like he’d seen someone else do it a lot. “I don’t get it! I don’t understand!” 

“Understand what?” 

“Anything!” Don whirled around, and Du felt the trapped misery, the fear of the unknown, and the absolute terror of being lost. She wondered what sort of master had owned Luke before. “Do you know where my brother is?” 

“Tom is off looking at ships. He completed his deal with me, and since he wants to move off planet, then he needs a ship.” 

“I.” The boy seemed to stop breathing for a second, and when he restarted, it was stuttering and short. “I don’t.” 

“Don?” 

“I’m don’t,” he stood quietly, breathing harshly enough that Du recognized early signs of a panic attack. 

“Don, buddy?” She stood up, making her way to him. “Kid, are you alright?”

“I.” His eyes didn’t shift from the mural until Du stepped in front of him and set her hands on his shoulders. 

“Hey, can you hear me? My name is Du; I’m the first woman you’ve ever met. You ate candy until you were sick because you didn’t know what you were doing. It’s alright. Don? Your brother’s name is Tom, or at least that’s what you’ve told me. I don’t actually think that that’s your name.” Still cautious, Du pulled the shaking human blond against her, trying to remember how she’d helped the others during their panic attacks. It seemed that Don would never calm down, but he eventually took a deep breath and leaned against her. He pulled back after a moment, as if too startled and afraid to hold onto her for long. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to lose control. I was just,” Don blinked wide eyes up at her. “I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t need to apologize. Why are you sorry?”

“I just. I just. I lost control, and I’m not supposed to let my emotions get the better of me.” 

“Um,” Du turned back to the clinic. “DOC!” 

“WHAT?” He appeared quickly as if he had been watching. “What’s wrong?” 

“Come here,” she ordered. Dr. Pierce stumbled out of the clinic.

“Don, are you feeling alright? What’s wrong? Did you feel faint or?” 

“He had a panic attack,” Du said, letting the human do his work. 

“A what?” The skittish look in his bright blue eyes was enough to keep both of them from touching him. “What’s a panic attack?” 

“It’s what just happened,” Du said, feeling desperately angry at Don’s master. “You can’t breathe right, you shake and feel weird.” 

“I just lost control; I’m fine.” 

“Lost control? How often does something like this happen?” 

“Um,” Don scuffed his shoe against the ground. “Not that often. I try to not. My master said that it shouldn’t happen because I lose control of my emotions.”

“That doesn’t sound,” Dr. Pierce rubbed his nose and leaned away from the blond. “Okay, Don. That is not. Let’s go inside, we need to talk, and you need to calm down. Du, thanks for getting me.” 

“No problem,” she stepped away, keeping a close eye on the human. “You think we should contact Tom. I’ll be right back.” She fled, hoping that the doctor would be able to help.

#$$#$#

Leia hadn’t been around large groups of people in so long that even standing in a nearly deserted marketplace was a bit of a hassle. There were vendors with food, clothes, machine parts, cookware, and even books. There were bored stormtroopers standing about, not really paying attention to anything. Students, just out of a school crowded around a stand with food that smelled sweeter than anything she’d ever eaten. 

“Miss Sonra?” Leia jerked her head to the side as the droid clanked back to hearing distance. “I think I have everything.” 

“Oh?” She didn’t let go of the support beam she’d been clutching for several minutes. Even without her eyes, she could paint a pretty good picture of this place. The droid, Threepio was an odd sort, and he glowed gold in the force Not exactly, but similar to how another person might. He was alive, and Leia had always been told that droids were only simple machines. She couldn’t discern his thoughts, or whatever passed for droids thoughts, but she could sense his presence. “What else did you get?” 

“I do hope I wasn’t too forward, Miss Sonra, but I also purchased a navigation device. Very simple, and very ancient, but I thought it might suit you.” Leia sighed, figuring that arguing with a droid like Threepio was pointless, and held out a hand. To her utter lack of surprise, the droid pressed a cane into her hand. The grip was wrapped in leather. She felt alone the perfect length, noting the solid wood that ended in a perfectly economical rubber tip. It would be a good stick for hitting people with. 

“Thank you, Threepio.” Leia set it against the ground and swung it back and forth. “What smells spicy? I smell something spicy from that direction.” She pointed a finger to the left. 

“As I don’t smell anything, because I am a droid, however, I know that there is a stand that specializes in off-worlder food. It may be the spices you’re looking for. Do you want to go to eat?” 

“Can we?” Leia set a hand against Threepio, feeling the warm metal and thrumming circuits. It wasn’t exactly human, but Threepio was alive. 

“Certainly,” Threepio lead her through the streets. Leia, keeping her ears and sense attuned, could tell that people were looking at them oddly.

“Hello there,” someone’s voice called from in front of them. It was further up than Leia’s head, so she tilted her head back on reflex, frowning. 

“Officer Hobbes! It is a pleasure to see you today.” Threepio paused in his shuffling lock-step. “What brings you here today?” 

“Got wind of an unregistered ship,” the man said. Leia felt around his presence. Imperial, older, with children of his own and too hungover to actually care about the supposed ship. “Wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” 

“Certainly not,” Threepio lied easily. “I only deal with legal custom. How is your wife?” 

“Pregnant.” The droid had to be bribing him because the officer shrugged off the supposed illegal ship too easily. “Kid number six. Found out last night.” That certainly explained the hangover. “Can wait to see what it’s going to bee. Hopefully another daughter.” 

“I wish you luck,” Threepio said, “small children can be difficult to manage.”

“They sure can, well, I better go pick up those sweets my wife wants before she blasts my head off with my own blaster. You have a nice day, the both of you.” The officer stepped away, and Leia breathed a faint sigh of relief. 

“Have a good day, officer.” Threepio continued to lead her down the street. 

“How long do you think it’ll take our ship to get fixed?” Leia asked after Threepio had bought her food and guided her to a convenient seat nearby. 

“Not very long. My partner is experienced at fixing ships as damaged as yours. I’m impressed that you managed to fly it here at all.” 

“I didn’t do any flying,” Leia muttered unhappily into her food. She used to be able to fly. It had been fun too, practicing with her land speeder. “How long?” 

“A few days, two weeks at most. Longer if parts need to be ordered.” 

“Okay, so what about you? What’s a fellow like you doing in a place like this?” She gestured to the marketplace that she couldn’t see. 

“I’m afraid that is a classified secret,” Threepio told her primly. “Should we make a stop at doctors?” 

“I don’t think I need a doctor, but I’d like some stuff for my cycle. I know it wasn’t on the list.” 

“That is perfectly alright. I am very adept at purchasing ladies supplies. I have done it many times for my previous master.” 

“Oh,” Leia didn’t need to squint against the sun, but it was a reflex, she made the gesture at the droid just to clarify how she felt about the sentence. “Okay.” She sort of hoped that they’d be able to leave sooner. Leia really wanted to go out and do some damage.


	10. Settlement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia eavesdrops on several conversations. Luke has to move.

R2-D2 and C-3PO were old friends and had the sort of connection that some organics couldn’t replicate. Their shipyard was unique to a planet that didn’t deal extensively intergalactic trading. It was a planet that rebels stuck out like a sore thumb, but tired vagabond who only owned their ship and shirt were ignored. Jyn was easily ignored, even though the Imperial officers usually gave her a second, appraising glance. No one even looked at Leia, shuffling along with her cane and Threepio. 

There also wasn’t much in the way of entertainment. Leia didn’t know how to deal with boredom; she’d lived alone in a temple that was actively trying to kill her for years before Jyn came along. Before that, she’d been raised by rebels, and then after that, she’d trained with Jedi. She’d been busy her whole life. Having an entire afternoon with nothing to do, was making her vibrate in her skin. 

“Hey,” she swept her cane across the floor until she encountered Jyn’s feet, “what are we doing today?” 

“I’m helping Artoo,” Jyn grunted, “I’m busy.”

“Alright,” Leia pulled her cane back to her side. 

“You could explore,” Jyn suggested irritably, “if you’re bored.” 

“Explore?” 

“Go see what’s entertaining. I don’t know what people do for fun.” 

“I used to read,” Leia muttered, and she heard Jyn snort. 

“I’m going to work with Artoo, if you need help, just yell.” She left the room, the scent of oil and machines wafted through the door as it open. Leia could almost imagine the scene beyond the door. She picked up her glass and sniffed the milk before downing it in one go.

Gathering intel as a young blind girl had to be easier. She’d could weaponize the illusion of fragility. 

Well, she didn’t have a cause to gather intel for. She wasn’t a rebel; she wasn’t a Jedi. 

She could still figure out what was going on in the galaxy. 

Leia made her way into the street, following the pull of the Force to the signatures that radiated authority. The people who felt like Imperials. She sidled up close to a wall and slid down while crossing her cane over her knees. 

“I’m telling you, they’re going to bring it back. It’s a classic!” 

“It's not a classic, you fatty, it’s just your favorite.” The two officers conversation carried, boosted by the wind and the little alcove they were tucked into that magnified their voices. “Just because a sandwich is your favorite doesn’t mean that little shop is going to bring it back.” 

“But I really want one!” The first officer whined, “it’s my favorite, and now I just have to get some stupid little sandwich.” 

“They weren’t charging enough to deal with you,” the second officer snorted. “Don’t you have work to do during lunch?” 

“I don’t eat and work. I eat and then I work. It’s important to have these distinctions.” 

“My god, you are one of those people.” 

“Sure am, anyway, who cares about setting up the delegation of Lothal citizens to that stupid Empire Day celebration on Imperial Center.” 

“I do, put me on the guest list.” 

“No,” Leia hear the first cough, “I have to find upstanding Lothal citizens with business brains and tolerable enough to send to hang out with politicians. You know who I would send?” 

“Who?” The second slurped something.

“Those two droids who own the little shipyard.” 

“I,” Leia could feel the confused shock, “the what?” 

“The droids who own the shipyard. They’re perfect. I would totally send them.” 

“Droids? Who own a shipyard; are you drunk?” 

“No, don’t be stupid. The droids own the shipyard, and they live there. They usually host whoever is getting their ship fixed. Nice doids, but don’t mess with the short one.” 

“Droids don’t own things,” the second sputtered, “they’re owned. They’re objects. They’re manufactured, they don’t get to own stuff.”

“Uh, that’s not true. The last person who tried to put a retraining bolt on the little blue droid was found in a dumpster covered in electrical burns. Trust me; you don’t mess with these droids.” 

“But they’re droids! How can they own anything! They aren’t even sentient!” 

“Well, they passed the test that the BMV gave them, so they sort of qualify.”

“You issued them a license?” 

“They paid the fee!” The first protested, “and it was legal tender!” 

“Only on a backwater hole like this would droids get to own a shipyard. This would never happen in the Core.” 

“Maybe that’s why no one likes core-worlders. They’re stuck-up if you think life doesn’t come in all forms. You need to go back to sensitivity training.” 

“Sensitivity training? For droids?” 

“They aren’t included in your packet?” 

“NO!” 

“Do you even have sensitivity packets in the Core stations?” 

“Obviously, they’ve got women and politicians.” 

“Aliens?”

“Erm, just a few.”

“Okay? What about droids, and twi’leks, and formers slaves?” 

“Not really.” 

“Okay, what about street kids who need help, homeless people?” 

“No, we just call the stormtroopers.” 

“You call the police on children who need help. God, this is why I don’t like you. Look, see that little girl over there? She’s got a bit of hard edge, maybe a runaway given by the scar on her face. Do you have any idea how to talk to her without freaking her out?”

“I…don't think so.”   
Leia tried to keep her face clear as the attention turned to her. The conversation was a little enlightening, and certainly amusing. 

“Word of advice, don’t try to do anything to the droids who own the shipyard. The last minister that tangled with them ended up executed for treason. The paper trail showed up in a nice little box at the ISB office. Couldn’t trace it back, but I promise you it had to be those guys.” 

“The rim worlds are insanity. You are a bunch of bleeding heart idiots. I bet those droids were programmed to do that. There has to be a political enemy making them do it. As for that girl, I bet she’s just begging. If she is a runaway, she ought to be tossed into a boarding school, that will teach her.”

“You don’t know anything about the kid,” the first scolded, “you don’t know the problems she’s had. Maybe she’s just taking a break from a long day. We don’t know, and we won’t know until we ask.” 

“You officers who work under Vader’s command are morons,” the second scoffed. “I thought it was a joke that Vader’s officers were soft like you.” 

“What? Hey, you don’t trash talk Lady Vader here. Don’t let the station chief hear you at all. She is our commander; she fights pirates and smugglers and slavers. She takes care of the people.” 

“She’s crazy! No babies and suddenly she’s capable of leading a whole military? She just uses it to find those kids. They aren’t even alive. If the rebels were smart, they would have killed them.” 

“Watch your mouth,” the first snapped, the conversation tensed, “you don’t talk about Lady Vader’s kids like that. They’re still alive, and Vader leads from the front-lines. She wades into the fights the same as her troopers; I don’t see guys like you doing that.” 

“That’s what troopers are for.” 

“You’re a coward, and she’s a great leader.”

“She murders people who annoy her! She’s unhinged! She doesn’t even wash her hair!”

“She’s got problems,” the first officer agreed, “but she’s a damn good leader. Come one, let’s ask that little girl is she need help.” 

Leia forced herself calm as the men approached, their boots shuffling along the dry ground. She looked up when one of the cougher. 

“Excuse me, miss.’ 

“Hello?”

“Are you alright, miss?” 

“I’m fine.’ 

“Well, you see it’s a school day, and you are sitting in the street.” 

“My sister said it was a good idea if I took a break,” Leia told them, “I’m just passing through Lothal.”

“Alright, do you have your papers?”

“Papers?” That was a thing now? Did she need papers?

“I don’t usually carry them,” Leia admitted, “my family carries them. Obvious reasons,” she waved her hand in front of her face. “Can’t see them. I could hand you a recipt, and no know it.” 

“Ah, good point.” The first officer hummed to himself, “where is your family?” 

“I don’t know,” Leia told him, this was the truth, “but I’m lost, and I’m waiting for them to come to find me. They told me to wait at a park if I ever get really lost. Do you know where a park is?” 

“Oh, certainly!” The man brightened in the Force, “come along; I’ll take you to one.” 

“Thank you,” Leia held out a hand, and they helped her to her feet. With a little more drama than necessary, she swung her cane out in front of her. It helped slow them down, and she could think of a plan. They didn’t seem malicious, but people turned dangerous when they didn’t get what they want. She wasn’t sure how to get rid of them. “So, what’s new?” 

“Erm, Empire Day celebrations coming up soon. They’re going to be fun once the afternoon of mourning passes.” 

“Afternoon of mourning?” Leia and the second officer asked almost simultaneously. 

“Right, I forget you core-wolders don’t do that.” The man laughed. 

“Do it, I do not,” Leia mentally kicked herself, “but what is it?”

“It’s a little after the big party, and before the night parties. We have an hour or two of silence to remember the people who died in the Clone Wars. I think it’s more of a outer rim world habit. Plus, we also do it out of respect for Lady Vader. You know, the Burning Mother probably lost everything in one day.”

“Burning Mother is just another world for a self-made martyr,” the second officer scoffed, “plenty of mothers’s lost their children, I don’t understand why we have to be so decorous to her. She’s not special.” 

“If you lost your family in one day, you wouldn’t want to celebrate the anniversary every time either. Husband and children, murdered on the same day. We have the afternoon of silence because the Outer Rim world had more to do with the Clone Wars than the Core did. We lost more people; we suffered more. It’s like the Core forgot how horrible the war was.” 

“Of course we knew how the war was. We had very strict rationing.” 

“Good job, we didn’t have anything to ration. There wasn’t relief from that until Vader came along and changed it. She brought the authority, and the supplies, she killed the scum.” 

“I don’t she did it all,” the second officer scoffed, “it was an effort of hundreds.” 

Leia frowned, tightening her grip on the first officer's arm. “Yeah, but she made it happen. She knows what its like to be one of us, and she didn’t forget. I mean, I was a street rat on Corellia. I was raised by a gangster named Lady Proxima. Lady Vader raided her den and killed the gangsters. She saved all of us scum rats from being slaves. Course you in the Core would know about fear like that. You just have to worry about what you want to have for dessert.” 

“That’s not true; we also have problems.” 

“I was there,” the first continued, “when Vader killed Proxima. The old lady was makin’ an example of a kid who stole from her. Han, I think his name was. Poor guy, he was one of the younger ones. I was about to age into the guards. They were beating him up, and Lady Vader smashed open the big glass window. She jumped down and cut those two guys holding him down with one swipe of her sword. Then the troopers followed. Proxima was burning up in the sunlight and Vader held her in the air with her power, and that’s how Proxima died. You never forget something like that. As soon as I was cleared by medical, I joined up.”

Leia slowed a little, feeling sick. Yoda used to tell her about Vader; the Jedi acolytes had told her it was her destiny to destroy the woman. Until the point when Yoda didn’t think she could make it as a Jedi, Leia had been firmly believed in killing her. 

Now she understood why Vader would hunt each individual Jedi down and execute them.

“My head hurts,” she said, before realizing she’d spoken out loud. 

“What’s wrong, miss?” The first officer asked. 

“I don’t know,” Leia sighed, rubbing at her scar. “I just need to sit down.” 

“Well, the part isn’t very far, there are plenty of benches there. Just a little further.” They picked up the pace. 

“So, is the whole galaxy just split into two?” Leia asked. “One who likes Vader and one who doesn’t?” 

“Lady Vader operates under the command of the Emperor,” the first officer scoffed, “he is the one responsible for the order in the galaxy. The Emperor isn’t supreme.” 

“He is not,” the second scoffed, “I wouldn’t follow that fat sack into an office, much less battle. Lady Vader is better than him.” 

“That is treason,” the second warned, not sounding like he really cared.

“She gets stuff done,” the first told him, “watch your foot here, miss. There’s a curb, just lift your next foot. There you go. Anyway, Lady Vader is going to be a great Empress.” 

“She’s not smart enough to rule the Empire,” the second sounded like he was rolling his eyes, “just because she can fight a few battles doesn’t mean that she can rule a whole Empire.”

“Who says she’s not smart?” Leia sighed deeply as her cane smacked against something metal. She grabbed hold with her hand and felt for the bench. She sat down a moment later as the argument continued. 

#$#$#$#

Ezra Bridger tugged at the high collar of his clothes as Lady Vader surveyed him. The cell seemed smaller with her broad forming taking up the doorway. Her cloak could have acted as a curtain across almost the whole door. 

“It’s a good color on you,” she told him, and he grimaced. 

“Sorry, but blacks no really my color.” 

“It will be,” Vader warned him. “Do not antagonize the Grand Inquisitor when he returns from recovery.” 

“I won’t if he doesn’t mess with me,” Ezra told her. “And I’m not becoming a Sith.” 

“I will enjoy you by my side,” she told him, and the small smile on her face could harken back to the Holocron he had. Where Anakin Skywalker had trained the basic of lightsaber defense. When she was cockier, more fun, and she’d left jokes behind for future padawans to laugh at. It was creepy, and even creepier when she reached out to ruffle his hair. “Come, Bridger.”

He reluctantly followed her up the stairs and into a circle of security. Their weapons were all aimed at him, and one stepped forward with a pair of cuffs. Ezra glowered at Vader, but she shrugged. 

“I can’t trust you with my officers, Bridger. You’ll have to tolerate them.” The cuffs slid into place, and Ezra flexed his wrists. “Troopers, escort him to the transport.”

“Yes, sir.” The officer saluted, and Ezra stuck his tongue out at the woman as she turned to leave. The officer gaped. She reached over and flicked his forehead. He scrunched up his face, glowering as he rubbed the spot. As Vader stepped into the turbo lift at the end of the hall, she nodded one last time. 

“I’ll see you soon, Bridger.” The doors slid shut, and Ezra took stock of his situation. With Vader gone, he could try to escape. If he made it to Mustafar, he was in trouble. He had to escape now. He had to escape with this ship they were going to take him to.

#$#$#$

Luke perked up from his bed as he heard noise drifting through the door. He didn’t move for a long moment, listening to the rhythmic thumping of heavy sounding music, and the combination of singing and other instruments bleed through the door. He didn’t recognize the music or the instruments, and he didn’t understand the words. 

After a long moment, he sat up, letting his blanket fall to the bed. After a moment he climbed off the bed and out of his room. Just across the hall, through the crack in the open door, he could see another bed holding another patient. This one was a deep green Rodian. Since Luke had never met a Rodian before, he watched long enough that the other teen glanced over. Their large eyes, bulbous and reminding Luke of a starry night, widened. 

“Hi,” the other teen waved, “who are you?” 

“I’m…uh…” Luke leaned away from the open door and then peeked back into the room. “I’m, my brother calls me Bambi.” 

“Bambi, cute. Come one in, Bambi.” Luke agreed and took a seat at the end of the bed as the teen sat up. “I’m Ruttu.”

“Hi, Ruttu,” Luke held his hand over his chest in a loose fist and bowed over it. Ruttu laughed. 

“You don’t have to do that; I’m not any of those high-class Rodians.”

“I thought it was polite,” Luke frowned, “isn’t it?” 

“Oh, It’s totally polite, and it’s a pretty wizard that you know that, but you don’t have to do that. So you’ve been to Rodia?” 

“No,” Luke shook his head, “my master told me about all of the customs of Rodia though.” 

“Your master?” Ruttu frowned, but Luke was focusing on the speaker. The music was louder in here, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. 

“What’s this music?” 

“It’s a jazz band,” Ruttu answered, “uh, it’s a new way to play. A lot of critics don’t like it because it swings. They think it’s too loose and inappropriate. I love it myself. I love the swing.” 

“Huh,” Luke closed his eyes, listening to the music. It wasn’t like the stuff Obi-Wan had shown him. The music did seem to have a swing to it as it was played. The singers were right along with it. “Jazz,” he opened his eyes, “I like it.” 

“Sweet, I like it too. This band is called the StreetRat Pak. So, why are you here?” 

“I heard the music.” 

“No, like, why are you in the clinic?”

“Oh, the doctor wanted to keep me here for some observations,” Luke crossed his legs and took a deep breath. He felt the Force surround him, pulling close. It was like it always was, comfortable and wonderful. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m here while they sort to paperwork for my new guardians. I’m a foster kid, you?” 

“Foster kid?”

“Yeah, you know a kid who ends up in the system. They pass you from family to family. If the old one doesn’t like you, you get tossed out.” 

“Family.” Luke tested the word. He knew what it meant, the dictionary definition, but he didn’t really know what it was. “You don’t have a family?” 

“Not one that wants me,” Ruttu shrugged, and leaned back against his pillows. “But I age out of the system in a few years so that it won’t matter anyway. I’ll be on my own eventually.” 

“Oh, don’t you want one?” 

“Sure do, I’d like to have a family. Who doesn’t? I mean, a Mom and a Dad, those are the best. I had a few good families.” 

“What happened to your real parents?” 

“You mean my biological parents,” Ruttu stared at the ceiling, “I don’t know. Never knew, what about yours?” 

“I don’t,” Luke thought for a moment, “I guess I have someone, but I don’t know who they are.” He hadn’t thought about that before. “I guess I have a Mother and a Father, but I don’t really know who they are. I wonder.” He put his chin in his hand, staring at the Rodian. “My master never even talked out them. He just raised me.” 

“Huh,” Ruttu blinked a few times, “so what about your brother, Bambi?” 

“I just got him,” Luke said, “but he’s my brother. So,” Luke frowned, “I’ve studied families, but.” 

“Wait a second, what do you mean you’ve studied families?” 

“I’ve studied them. I lived alone.” 

“Lived along? What?” 

“Yes, with my master. We lived alone. There were no other people around,” Cassian didn’t say he couldn’t talk about his life, so this was probably fine. 

“None, you didn’t meet anyone ever?”

“Until a few days ago, no.” 

“Wow.” Ruttu seemed confused, and his attention shifted from Luke to the speakers, “what was that even like? What did you do all day? Did you have holo-net?” 

“Um, I farmed with my master. I cooked, I worked in the house. There were always chores to do. It feels a little strange to have nothing to do. No, we didn’t have holo-net.” 

“Oh my God! You don’t know about memes do you?” 

“What’s a meme?” Luke tilted his head to the side. Ruttu covered his mouth and seemed to wiggle with unrestrained glee. 

“YESSSSSSSSS! YAAASSSSSSS! I get to teach someone about memes! This is going to be the greatest!”

#$#$#$#4

Ezra took a deep breath as the security team approached the ship. Vader he could feel, a black sun all the way across the ship. Her cold dying star density of existence almost dwarfed the actual star the ship was near. 

Three security teams, all ready to shoot him if they thought he was being difficult. A ship, all prepped and fueled, ready to fly, but if he stole the ship from the hanger when he was going to be shot at by the big ship, and that would probably kill him. Vader wasn’t that forgiving.

The ship could jump to Mustafar a bunch of times, but no doubt only in Imperial held space, which meant that. 

He was over thinking it. 

Ezra sank into the force, knowing that Vader would notice but desperately needing the advice it offered. It was as gentle as it always was, the sun-like sensation filling him as he breathed. It hummed in his bones, and his entire body vibrated as the Force flared. 

NOW!

He didn’t know what he was doing until he was already doing it, raising his hands and shoving the soldiers in front of him away. Five went flying across the floor, armor scraping and clanging against the metal floor. He turned to dodge the first of the blaster bolts, dropping to the floor and rolling as two jumped forward. Using the heavy cuffs around his wrists, he slammed them against the mans’ head, knocking him to the ground. Between himself and ship were five more, he took a running leap, jumping over the soldiers. With a move he wasn’t even sure he knew, Ezra skidded across the floor and jumped to his feet just in time to sprint up the ramp. 

The soldiers inside yelled in surprise, but Ezra used the Force to toss them out. He could feel Vader’s attention turn to him, his head ached under the pressure of so much malice, but he forced himself to continue. 

Alerted by the yelling, the pilot had a blaster out, firing as soon as Ezra moved through the door. With a smirk, Ezra shoved the bolt back, knocking into the pilot and sending him reeling to the floor. Taking the chair, he worked as quickly as possible to raise the boarding ramp. 

A comm line button blinked, and Ezra punched it as he lifted the ship off the hanger floor and recklessly shoved the joystick forward. 

“BRIDGER!” Vader voice broke through his haze, “Cease and desist!” 

“Sorry, Aunty Vader,” Ezra babbled as he punched the weapon systems online. The tractor beam activating would stop him before he could escape. “But I’ve got to be home in time for dinner.” He sent a wide barrage across the hanger as he broke through the blue haze separating the hanger from the vacuum of space. “You know how my parents get.” 

“BRIDGER! STOP!” The command was accompanied with the heady rush of a mind-trick, Ezra felt his entire body lean into the command, wanting to do what Vader ordered.

He shook his head and continued to direct the shuttle away from the ship. 

“You won’t escape Bridger,” Vader growled, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. “When I catch you I will not.” She cut off with a shout as Ezra felt his connection with Kanan spring to life. Explosions sounded through the comm unit. “SHIELD UP!” 

“WOOO!” Ezra flew toward the bright connection, seeing the Ghost fly around the giant ship. “Kanan!” 

The scream of TIE fighters sounded before he saw them, and he threw the ship into a set of insane evasive maneuvers. The Ghost flew overhead, engaging the TIE fighters as Ezra reached finally finished punching in the hyperspace coordinates he memorized for situations like this. 

“Time to go!” He pulled the lever, knowing the Hera wouldn’t be far behind. 

#$#$#$3

As the ships batteries finally died down, and the ship finally stopped shaking, the bridge crew fell deathly silent. Those who dared turned to Lady Vader, standing in her customary place with her arms clasped behind her back. Turned to the bridge crew, her face a mask of calm. 

This only worsened the fear; the crewmembers hunkered in their seats watching as Vader moved down the crew pit. 

“Another daring escape,” she muttered. “Brilliant escape,” she faced the communications officers. “You recorded that?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Play it back,” a moment later the conversation filled the bridge. From Lady Vader’s shouting to Bridgers cheeky reply. 

“Sorry, Aunty Vader! But I’ve got to get home in time for dinner. You know how my parents get.” 

“Stop the recording,” Vader pursed her lips, “get engineering down the hanger bay to start repairs. Medic crews and the like. As soon as we’re sure we can jump to hyperspace without scattering ourselves across three star systems, jump to the Kuat shipyards for a full set of repairs.” 

“Full set?”

“We’ve been set for a systems upgrades,” Vader waved a hand carelessly, “get the repair crews down there, now. 

“Yes, sir!” the crew jumped into actions, shaking as Vader loomed over their crew pit. 

#$#$#$3 

Leia finally made her way back to the shipyard when her stomach began to complain, and the two officers continued to bicker enough that she managed to make her escape easily. 

“Miss Sonra,” Threepio seemed to be waiting for her, “welcome back. It’s time for lunch!”

“Good,” she felt for the seat, plopping down a moment later, “where is Jyn?” 

“She is out and helping R2-D2.” 

“Alright.” Leia held her hand out for the bowl, which the droid handed her carefully. “What is this?” 

“Soup! Tomato soup, this planet is perfect for growing tomatoes. And here,” the sound of a plat hitting the table had Leia turning to the side. She felt for the plate, coming across something hot and bread-like. “This is what they called a grilled cheese. My last master used to love them.” 

“Oh,” Leia picked up the sandwich and carefully dunked the bread into the soup. She slurped down the first bite and felt her entire body tighten. It was delicious and hot and perfect. It felt something like home. A home she’d never known. She dunked the bread in again, eating a little sloppily but enjoying the food too much be annoyed with herself. 

“Oh, goodness. Do you enjoy it?” 

“I love it,” Leia said fiercely, “it’s good food.” 

“Oh dear, I am so pleased,” Threepio shuffled away, “Miss. Sonra have you seen a doctor over the scar on your eyes?” 

“Nope,” she said past a mouthful of food, “a doctor I didn’t need.”

“Perhaps you should see a doctor,” the droid offered, and she shook her head. 

“Don’t need too, there wasn’t a chance of infection.” She shook away the flashes of remembered pain. “I’m fine.” 

“Well, what about the rest of your health? There is a very confidential med-droid not too far away. I could call for him; he’ll make a house call.” 

“I’m fine,” Leia snapped. She ran a finger over her eyes. The familiar scar was almost something she could visualize. 

“You know that there is no shame in asking for help. My former master used to tell my former mistress that all the time. It was tragic she couldn’t follow his advice.” 

“The scar has already healed up,” Leia continued to eat, but slower this time. 

“I’ll call the med-droid,” Threepio told her, kindly as his mechanical voice could manage. Leia pushed her spoon around the bowl of soup, frustrated, but knowing it was probably the most logical thing to do. “He’ll be here in an hour.” 

“You already called him,” Leia said accusingly. 

“I did,” Threepio admitted. “You are very messy, Miss Sonra, how do you feel about a bath?”

“I’m blind, not helpless.” 

“I simply should draw one up.” Threepio said cheerfully, “are you done eating?” 

“Yeah,” Leia pushed her bowl away and let her head thunk down to the table. “Fine, if you want to draw up a bath, that works. It’s not like there’s anything for me to do.” 

“Perfect,” the droid shuffled closer, and it sounded like he was picking up the bowl and plate. “Here is a glass of water. Please drink all of it. “

“Are you usually this fussy?” 

“Oh, yes,” the droid told her, “always.” 

#$#$#$#

“So if I say “totally core.” then it means it pretentious, and it means it’s a rich person thing that no normal person would do?” 

“Yeah, and totes rimmy, means that it’s a smart way to solve a problem.” 

“That’s totally core,” Luke tested out the phrase, frowning, “totes rimmy.” 

“Yeah, but be careful who you say tote rimmy around. It can get dirty.”

“Like, ribald humor?”

“Does that mean inappropriate?”

“Yes.” 

“Yeah, so it can be ribald. So, then there’s another one, and its what you say when you throw stuff.” 

“What is that?” Luke glanced up as he heard his name being called. 

“BAMBI!” 

“In here!” He called back, and Cassian opened the door. His dark eyes focused on Ruttu, and then Luke. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m teaching him about memes!” Ruttu exclaimed, “where did you dig this guy up? He doesn’t even know about memes!”

“I don’t know about memes,” Cassian said shortly, “Bambi, come on. The doc wants to see you.” 

“Okay,” Luke got off the bed, and gave Ruttu a shallow bow, “thanks for teaching me about memes.” 

“You’ve got to use them!” Ruttu called, “you need to use them!” 

“Okay,” Luke moved through the door. “What does he want?” 

“Nothing, actually.” Cassian handed him a bundle, “get changed into these. We’ve got to get out of here.” 

“Why?” Luke asked as he ducked back into his room and began to change. “I like it here.” 

“I know you do,” Cassian nodded, “but they know us. The local mob boss and the head doctor at a clinic know what you look like. We have to get out of here.” 

“Okay, but the doctor wasn’t done with me. He said.

 

“I know what he said,” Cassian said, “but you need to get out of here, Bambi. Who you are means you aren’t safe on a planet like Corellia. They like Vader too much.”

“Alright, but,” Luke sighed as he pulled on his farmer clothes, “my panic attacks, and my whole.” 

“We’ll take care of it, Bambi. Get changed; I found our transport off.” 

“Okay,” Luke couldn’t help but feel sad as they rushed from the clinic. They ducked into an alley as Du walked by, a bundle held under her arm. “Oh no, we aren’t saying goodbye?” 

“We can’t,” Cassian glanced tensely, around, “come on, Bambi. If we can, we’ll come back.” 

“You’re lying,” Luke drooped, feeling the familiar sensation of depression sneaking up. He tried to smile as Cassian looked back at him. “Are we going to my master now?” 

“No, we’re going somewhere no one goes. Come on,” Du has passed, and they moved down the street again. Luke and Cassian hurried away and left Corellia far behind. 

#W#$#$#$

“Kid?” Du knocked on the door, which was supposed to have the blond farmer. “Bambi? Don or Tom, whatever your name is?” 

“He’s not here,” she looked back, a rodian teen was peeking out another door. “He and his brother left.” 

“Left?” 

“Yeah, the brother came along and took Bambi away. He said it wasn’t safe for him anymore.” 

“You were eavesdropping?” 

“Duh,” he rolled his eyes, “my guess is that they were criminals. But Bambi seemed nice enough.” 

“Yeah,” Du sagged a bit, “he was. I hope he’s okay, wherever he is.” 

#$#$#$ 

“I’m bored, Threepio,” Leia tried hard to keep the whine from her voice. She felt along the edge of the tub and shoved her hand in the water. It was hot, and she hadn’t had a hot bath in years. 

“I have a good selection of audio books if you want to listen to one.” 

“Maybe,” Leia swished the water between her fingers, “I’m not getting in until you turn around. “

“I’ll turn off my optics,” the droid told her, “there, they’re off.” 

“You can’t see through the water, can you?” Leia asked. 

“No, I added a bath addition that makes the water opaque and scented.”

“Thanks,” Leia yanked off her clothes and climbed in. The water was hotter than she was used to, but she ducked under. Her senses seemed to come alive beneath the water; she could feel Threepio nearby, a small family passing by on the streets nearby, a bird sitting on the windowsill, a lothcat in the alley. The whole universe thrummed in her grasp. 

She sat up, water running off her face and hair. The water smelled sweet and flowery, and Threepio clanked closer. 

“Here is your soap.” She held out her hand, accepting a slippery bar. “And a loofah.” 

“Thank you, Threepio,” she squirmed a little, “how do you know what to do?” 

“I served my last master; he was in need of a protocol droid. When my mistress created me, she often needed help with washing when there were times she couldn’t lift her arms.”

“Oh,” Leia began to wash up, the smell from the soap almost overbearing to her sensitive nose. She sneezed. 

“I am also programmed with several hairstyles. Would you like me to do your hair?” 

“I can’t see my hair,” Leia retorted, scrubbing at her elbow. 

“I can,” Threepio clanked away, “and if you do not want it to be in your face, there is a simple style I can use.” 

“I guess,” Leia marveled at the fact she’d left total isolation to being nannied by a fussy droid. “I don’t care.” 

“It will be very simple. Please turn away from my voice, and I will take care of your hair.” Leia obeyed and yelped as something cool and goopy landed on the top of her head. 

“EWWWW! What is that!” 

“My apologies,” Threepio fussed, “it is simply shampoo.”

“It’s gross,” she shook her head, feeling it drip down her face and hair. “Ewww.” 

“Hold still.” Blunt metal fingers rested lightly on her hair, and Threepio began to massage the soap into her scap. It was weirdly gentle for such a machine, but Leia leaned into the motion. 

“How often did you do this?” She asked, marveling at the sensation. The droid moved up a little further. 

“My master needed it often, though I only assisted when his manservant were otherwise occupied. His hair was much longer than yours.” 

“Wow, I thought I had long hair.” 

“You do.” Threepio picked something up. It sounded like he was scooping up water, and Leia cringed as a waterfall seemed to fall on her head. 

“Threepio, a little warning would be nice!” 

“Apologies, I am rising the shampoo from your hair.” 

Leia held onto the side of the tub, grimacing. “How long until this is over?” 

“Not long,” the droid answered, and Leia wasn’t sure, but she felt like he was lying.

#$#$#$3

Jyn followed R2-D2 back into the main living area of their house and paused at the sight of the food on the table. Threepio looked like he’d cooked and Leia was sitting on a chair as a med-droid leaned over her.

“Welcome back!” Threepio exclaimed, “goodness, dinner is ready! “

“Dinner?” Jyn gave a curious sniff, “what did you make?” 

Artoo whistled, and Threepio seemed shocked. “I resent that, you rust bucket. My cooking is always perfect. I am programmed to be a good cook!” 

The blue and white droid whistled again, and Jyn was distracted by the sight of Leia. Her hair was finally out of the one braid, and was now in a set of braids there were elaborately intertwined. It looked fancier than anything Leia had ever worn before. 

“Nice hair,” she complimented, and Leia reached back, self-conscious.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Threepio did it,” Leia added, Jyn nodded. Realizing Leia couldn’t see her, she spoke up. 

“Good job, Threepio.” Jyn took a seat at the table, and the medic droid trundled away. 

“Here,” the med-droid handed Threepio a datapad chip. “Information. Miss Sonra, eat plenty of food and drink plenty of water.” 

“My arms hurts,” she said unhappily, rubbing a spot that was wrapped in a bandage. 

“That is common,” the medic droid buzzed, “if swelling starts, give me another call.” 

“We will, Threepio told him, “thank you for your time, BeeTee.”

“I’m always on call.” Jyn’s eyes widened as the droid rolled to the door and picked up a hat sitting on the table beside the door. The droid set it on his head, “good day, my friends.” 

“That’s,” the droid rolled out the door, wearing his hat, and Jyn glanced at her hosts. Artoo rolled up to Leia, bumping against her chair. 

“What is it?” She reached down to pat his dome. “How are repairs coming?” 

“They’re fine,” Jyn moved to the sink to wash her hands, “no parts need to be ordered. We’ll be gone in about a weeks and half if we can fix that damn hyperdrive without cracking the casing.” 

“Oh, can you?” 

“Yeah,” Jyn plopped down at the table, “have you thought about where you want to fly next?” 

“Where is safe for us? I was listening to the officer's talk today, and Vader is very popular. She’s practically ruling the Outer Rim.” 

“Artoo and I have associates on several planets. People who would be happy to set you up with false papers and a permanent settlement. If you like, Lothal is an excellent place to settle.

“We’ll think on it,” Jyn answered, “but I don’t want anywhere that Lady Vader is well-liked.” 

“Oh, then you’ll have to head into the Core for that. The best place for a new identity and to fade into the background would be Alderann.” 

“They sympathize with the rebels too much,” Leia disagreed instantly. “Not them.” 

“We’ll figure it out,” Jyn said, “but for now, we just need that ship fixed.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am aware the Anakin is the Chosen One.


End file.
